Creation
by kwater
Summary: Dean and Sam go on a hunt to stop a rash of robberies.
1. Chapter 1

"Dude, quit shoving. I'm supposed to sit here, Paul," Ron said as he shoved his friend out of the way.

"Why the hell's it got to be so dark, I don't see why we can't turn on the lights, Dennis?" Ron said complaining about the four candles stationed around the black basement.

"Turn on the lights? What are you, friggin' five. It's atmospheric; the candles'll help us concentrate. And I told you Ron don't call me Dennis, I'm Creatio," Dennis answered.

"Ouch, Ron you just totally stepped on my foot," Paul cried out grabbing his foot in pain.

"Crap, I'm sorry. I can't see a thing," Ron said moving cautiously in the dim light.

"Shit, fine just wait, I'll get the lights," Dennis said as he moved toward the light switch mounted on the wall.

"Damn, Dennis, that's bright," Ron said holding his hand up to his eyes to cut the glare from the row of halogen lights.

"Damnit, Ron, I just said call me 'Creatio'," Dennis snapped in exasperation.

"Fine, Creatio, I still don't get why you get to pick your own nickname and I'm don't," Ron asked in a whining voice.

"I told you, Ron, if you want a nickname then pick one, but I'm not calling you Uranus. I don't care if he is the Greek Father of Creation, it's just stupid," Dennis said as he stood arms crossed tapping his foot in annoyance. "I don't care if you did look it up on Wiki. There's no way I'm going to run around shouting 'Hey, what's up Uranus'.'"

"Dude," Paul said laughing deeply. "You totally said 'Your Anus'.

Dennis groaned in frustration. "See, if nothing else, Paul, says that every time. I told you, you should go with Marduk, it's Babylonian," Dennis said.

"Yeah, Yeah, I know Marduk the 'supreme being'. I don't want to be Marduk if you're going to be--" Ron cut off as a knock sounded in the room.

Dashing toward the stairs that were located against the far corner of the room, Ron came to a halt on the top stair just as the door above opened. He could see his Mom standing at the top of the stairs; her worn terry cloth bathrobe cinched tightly, a tray held before her in offering.

"Mom, I told you not to disturb me. We're working on the game," Ron said, looking down at Dennis and Paul who had moved toward the bottom of the stairs.

Dennis smiled and said, "Hello, Mrs. Banning. It's nice to see you again."

Alice Banning smiled down in true delight at Dennis. "Well, hello, Dennis, I didn't realize that you were here. I thought it was just Ronald and Paul. Are you helping the boys with their little game? I'm sure you must be a big help, you always did get top marks in school. You're mother's always telling me just how smart you are." Alice moved to go down the steps.

Ron stood in front of his mother and said, "Mom, we talked about this. I'm twenty-four, I'm a man, now you just can't keep treating me like I'm twelve. Remember, you said the basement was mine. And it's not just a game; it's going to be the hottest video game on the market, just as soon as we get funding."

Alice smiled affectionately at her only son and said, "You know I remember a time not so long ago, when this old basement used to scare you. Now, all you want to do is hang out down here." Alice offered the tray to her son. "Alright, keep you're little secrets Ronald, just remember to clean up after yourselves. Tomorrow's laundry day and I don't want to find any more science experiments in the laundry sink."

Ron sighed deeply as he accepted the tray from his mother. "I know, Mom, we'll clean up. Why don't you get some sleep? We'll keep the noise down."

Alice gently patted her son on the cheek and said, "Alright, Son, Goodnight boys, enjoy the cookies I just made them fresh." With these words Alice turned, shutting the door behind her.

Ron carefully carried the tray down the stairs, as he made his way across the basement he sighed and said, "Whew that was close, do you think she's suspicious?" Ron set the tray on the counter that ran the length of the room, carefully picking up a still warm cookie.

Dennis smiled and grabbed a cookie off the tray. "No way, Man, your Mom totally loves me. Now are we ready to get serious."

Paul shook his head. "Do you really think this'll work, Dennis, I mean it still seems a little..." Paul's voice trailed off as he took a bite of one of the cookies. "God, Ron, your Mom totally rocks. These cookies are awesome; my Mom never makes me cookies anymore. All she ever does is ask if I've found a 'real' job yet, like supervisor at Blockbuster isn't a real job."

"Listen, guys, I have this all worked out. We've got the mud and the picture. All we gotta do is concentrate. I know we can do this," Dennis said wiping his hands on his kaki pants and moved toward the center of the room.

Paul took his place next to Dennis and watched as Ron moved into place also. The three young men formed a circle around a kiddie pool filled with sludgy black mud. "I gotta say the kiddie pool makes it kinda hard to take this serious."

Ron shook his head. "I already told you, Paul, I'm so not dumping gallons of mud on my Mom's basement floor. Do you know how long it would take to clean it up? This way all we'll have to do is carry out the pool."

Dennis smiled broadly. "I'm telling you guys, we're not going to have to worry about it, this is going to work. Now remember, you have to block out any other thoughts. You have to concentrate soley on this guy." Dennis held up an old black and white photo of a man in his late forties.

Each young man sat on the cold concrete floor, legs crossed Indian style. Paul looked at the picture that Dennis handed him. "Who is this guy, Dennis?"

Dennis smiled and answered, "I didn't want to risk it looking like someone who might be alive. I found this picture in a time-life book my Dad has. He was some famous tracker." Dennis sat up straight, hands on his knees and closed his eyes. "Remember concentrate on that face, nothing else. It'll help if you keep you're eyes closed."

All three men, sat eyes closed, the silence in the room broken only by the sound of an old heater cycling on. After only a few moments Ron opened his eyes cautiously, noticing the other two boys still seemed to be concentrating he quickly closed his eyes and tried again.

Ron was finding it hard to concentrate on the face Dennis had shown him. He still felt uneasy about this whole idea, not that he believed it would really work. But what if it did, I mean this could be the answer to all of their prayers. And besides it wasn't like the money was for anything frivolous. They only needed enough to get their game up and running. It's going to work, thought Ron, I mean I think it's going to work. Ron nodded to himself, mind made up. He cleared all thoughts and began concentrating on the image of the man.

Dennis grinned to himself, tonight was the night, the night all of their careful planning came to fruition. It had taken almost a full two months to come up with this plan; he'd spent hours on the internet finding out exactly what they needed to do. It still seemed almost too easy, but what the hell. Maybe everyone was wrong, maybe hard work wasn't the only way to get what you wanted. Concentrating once again on the picture in his mind, Dennis blocked out all other thoughts.

Paul felt his mind wandering and once again tried to picture the face in the photo. God, he thought, I'd kill for another cookie. With a guilty start Paul quickly opened his eyes, glancing at the two other men. Flushing at the sight of the other two meditating, Paul once again shut his eyes and began to concentrate on the image. Paul sighed, how much easier would this be if he had a bra strapped to his head, and he was focusing on a picture of Kelly Lebrock. Yeah, now there was a thought. Finally, Paul wrenched his mind away from images of Kelly in the shower and focused fully on the man in the photo.

888

"Okay Dude, what do we got?" asked Dean as he moved toward the table a beer in each hand.

Sam nodded his thanks as he accepted the beer from his brother. Gesturing towards a newspaper in front of him, he said, "I'm not sure. A suburb outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania has had a string of convenience store robberies."

"Robberies, Sam?" Dean said shaking his head. "Doesn't exactly scream supernatural."

Sam nodded. "Yeah I'm thinking it might be. It says here that they've got the guy on video, same guy every time. Now, the weird thing is that the guy's been shot by three different clerks in three different hold ups." Sam picked up his beer; taking a swig he continued to scan the article. "Each time the guy reaches out, picks the clerk up, snaps his neck and walks out with the money."

"Huh," Dean said. "Shot three times, alright I'll qualify that as weird. So let's go little brother, Philly it is. God, I can taste the cheese steaks already," Dean said with a laugh, thumping Sam on the back. "Load up geek boy."

"Dude, quit shoving. I'm supposed to sit here, Paul," Ron said as he shoved his friend out of the way.

"Why the hell's it got to be so dark, I don't see why we can't turn on the lights, Dennis?" Ron said complaining about the four candles stationed around the black basement.

"Turn on the lights? What are you, friggin' five. It's atmospheric; the candles'll help us concentrate. And I told you Ron don't call me Dennis, I'm Creatio," Dennis answered.

"Ouch, Ron you just totally stepped on my foot," Paul cried out grabbing his foot in pain.

"Crap, I'm sorry. I can't see a thing," Ron said moving cautiously in the dim light.

"Shit, fine just wait, I'll get the lights," Dennis said as he moved toward the light switch mounted on the wall.

"Damn, Dennis, that's bright," Ron said holding his hand up to his eyes to cut the glare from the row of halogen lights.

"Damnit, Ron, I just said call me 'Creatio'," Dennis snapped in exasperation.

"Fine, Creatio, I still don't get why you get to pick your own nickname and I'm don't," Ron asked in a whining voice.

"I told you, Ron, if you want a nickname then pick one, but I'm not calling you Uranus. I don't care if he is the Greek Father of Creation, it's just stupid," Dennis said as he stood arms crossed tapping his foot in annoyance. "I don't care if you did look it up on Wiki. There's no way I'm going to run around shouting 'Hey, what's up Uranus'.'"

"Dude," Paul said laughing deeply. "You totally said 'Your Anus'.

Dennis groaned in frustration. "See, if nothing else, Paul, says that every time. I told you, you should go with Marduk, it's Babylonian," Dennis said.

"Yeah, Yeah, I know Marduk the 'supreme being'. I don't want to be Marduk if you're going to be--" Ron cut off as a knock sounded in the room.

Dashing toward the stairs that were located against the far corner of the room, Ron came to a halt on the top stair just as the door above opened. He could see his Mom standing at the top of the stairs; her worn terry cloth bathrobe cinched tightly, a tray held before her in offering.

"Mom, I told you not to disturb me. We're working on the game," Ron said, looking down at Dennis and Paul who had moved toward the bottom of the stairs.

Dennis smiled and said, "Hello, Mrs. Banning. It's nice to see you again."

Alice Banning smiled down in true delight at Dennis. "Well, hello, Dennis, I didn't realize that you were here. I thought it was just Ronald and Paul. Are you helping the boys with their little game? I'm sure you must be a big help, you always did get top marks in school. You're mother's always telling me just how smart you are." Alice moved to go down the steps.

Ron stood in front of his mother and said, "Mom, we talked about this. I'm twenty-four, I'm a man, now you just can't keep treating me like I'm twelve. Remember, you said the basement was mine. And it's not just a game; it's going to be the hottest video game on the market, just as soon as we get funding."

Alice smiled affectionately at her only son and said, "You know I remember a time not so long ago, when this old basement used to scare you. Now, all you want to do is hang out down here." Alice offered the tray to her son. "Alright, keep you're little secrets Ronald, just remember to clean up after yourselves. Tomorrow's laundry day and I don't want to find any more science experiments in the laundry sink."

Ron sighed deeply as he accepted the tray from his mother. "I know, Mom, we'll clean up. Why don't you get some sleep? We'll keep the noise down."

Alice gently patted her son on the cheek and said, "Alright, Son, Goodnight boys, enjoy the cookies I just made them fresh." With these words Alice turned, shutting the door behind her.

Ron carefully carried the tray down the stairs, as he made his way across the basement he sighed and said, "Whew that was close, do you think she's suspicious?" Ron set the tray on the counter that ran the length of the room, carefully picking up a still warm cookie.

Dennis smiled and grabbed a cookie off the tray. "No way, Man, your Mom totally loves me. Now are we ready to get serious."

Paul shook his head. "Do you really think this'll work, Dennis, I mean it still seems a little..." Paul's voice trailed off as he took a bite of one of the cookies. "God, Ron, your Mom totally rocks. These cookies are awesome; my Mom never makes me cookies anymore. All she ever does is ask if I've found a 'real' job yet, like supervisor at Blockbuster isn't a real job."

"Listen, guys, I have this all worked out. We've got the mud and the picture. All we gotta do is concentrate. I know we can do this," Dennis said wiping his hands on his kaki pants and moved toward the center of the room.

Paul took his place next to Dennis and watched as Ron moved into place also. The three young men formed a circle around a kiddie pool filled with sludgy black mud. "I gotta say the kiddie pool makes it kinda hard to take this serious."

Ron shook his head. "I already told you, Paul, I'm so not dumping gallons of mud on my Mom's basement floor. Do you know how long it would take to clean it up? This way all we'll have to do is carry out the pool."

Dennis smiled broadly. "I'm telling you guys, we're not going to have to worry about it, this is going to work. Now remember, you have to block out any other thoughts. You have to concentrate soley on this guy." Dennis held up an old black and white photo of a man in his late forties.

Each young man sat on the cold concrete floor, legs crossed Indian style. Paul looked at the picture that Dennis handed him. "Who is this guy, Dennis?"

Dennis smiled and answered, "I didn't want to risk it looking like someone who might be alive. I found this picture in a time-life book my Dad has. He was some famous tracker." Dennis sat up straight, hands on his knees and closed his eyes. "Remember concentrate on that face, nothing else. It'll help if you keep you're eyes closed."

All three men, sat eyes closed, the silence in the room broken only by the sound of an old heater cycling on. After only a few moments Ron opened his eyes cautiously, noticing the other two boys still seemed to be concentrating he quickly closed his eyes and tried again.

Ron was finding it hard to concentrate on the face Dennis had shown him. He still felt uneasy about this whole idea, not that he believed it would really work. But what if it did, I mean this could be the answer to all of their prayers. And besides it wasn't like the money was for anything frivolous. They only needed enough to get their game up and running. It's going to work, thought Ron, I mean I think it's going to work. Ron nodded to himself, mind made up. He cleared all thoughts and began concentrating on the image of the man.

Dennis grinned to himself, tonight was the night, the night all of their careful planning came to fruition. It had taken almost a full two months to come up with this plan; he'd spent hours on the internet finding out exactly what they needed to do. It still seemed almost too easy, but what the hell. Maybe everyone was wrong, maybe hard work wasn't the only way to get what you wanted. Concentrating once again on the picture in his mind, Dennis blocked out all other thoughts.

Paul felt his mind wandering and once again tried to picture the face in the photo. God, he thought, I'd kill for another cookie. With a guilty start Paul quickly opened his eyes, glancing at the two other men. Flushing at the sight of the other two meditating, Paul once again shut his eyes and began to concentrate on the image. Paul sighed, how much easier would this be if he had a bra strapped to his head, and he was focusing on a picture of Kelly Lebrock. Yeah, now there was a thought. Finally, Paul wrenched his mind away from images of Kelly in the shower and focused fully on the man in the photo.

888

"Okay Dude, what do we got?" asked Dean as he moved toward the table a beer in each hand.

Sam nodded his thanks as he accepted the beer from his brother. Gesturing towards a newspaper in front of him, he said, "I'm not sure. A suburb outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania has had a string of convenience store robberies."

"Robberies, Sam?" Dean said shaking his head. "Doesn't exactly scream supernatural."

Sam nodded. "Yeah I'm thinking it might be. It says here that they've got the guy on video, same guy every time. Now, the weird thing is that the guy's been shot by three different clerks in three different hold ups." Sam picked up his beer; taking a swig he continued to scan the article. "Each time the guy reaches out, picks the clerk up, snaps his neck and walks out with the money."

"Huh," Dean said. "Shot three times, alright I'll qualify that as weird. So let's go little brother, Philly it is. God, I can taste the cheese steaks already," Dean said with a laugh, thumping Sam on the back. "Load up geek boy."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sam, It's your first time so let me do the talking okay. I know just what you need." Dean climbed out of the Impala and strode quickly toward the bright neon building.

Sam got out of the car slowly his eyes unable to take in the sheer amount of light that emanated from the building. Turning his head slightly, he blinked in wonder at the giant neon sign that was mounted on the building. The blue neon proclaimed this place as Geno's Steaks. Shaking his head, Sam followed Dean up to the counter, surprised that at this late hour it was still drawing a crowd.

As Sam approached, Dean pointed toward a picnic table that was situated along the side of the building. Sam nodded and took a seat, pulling his laptop out of his bag he set up on the table. Glancing ever now and then at Dean, who waited in line, Sam once gathered his thoughts checking the facts that he'd already garnered.

Ten minutes later Dean approached the table a wide grin on his face. Sam had to laugh at how happy and content his brother seemed in the moment. "I gotta say, I've never met anyone that takes quite as much pleasure in food as you do. For some reason it makes me slighly uncomfortable."

Dean just chuckled. "Sam, my boy one bite of this sandwich and you'll realize that any other food you'll ever eat will never compare. It's..." here Dean ran out of words to describe it. Instead, he just closed his eyes and groaned.

"Alright," Dean said as he laid out two sandwiches and a couple of cokes. Gesturing toward the sandwich, he said, "Dig in." Lifting his own overstuffed sandwich Dean took a large bite, once again groaning in pleasure.

Sam looked down at his own sandwich, he'd had cheese steaks before and so it was no surprise to see a 12" long roll, filled with thinly shaved steak and smothered in orange cheese and onions. To Sam it looked more like a heart attack on a roll, rather than a life altering experience. Sam snorted at his own thought, I guess technically a heart attack was a life altering experience. Picking the sandwich up carefully, he took a small bite. Chewing for a moment, his eyes widened and his gaze turned toward Dean.

Dean watched Sam take his first bite. As Sam's wide gaze turned toward him, he grinned through a mouthful of his own sandwich. Eyebrows lifted, he swallowed and said, "What'd I tell you, always trust your big brother." Taking a huge bite out of his own steak, Dean had to grin at the way Sam continued to attack the sandwich in front of him.

Sam rolled his eyes in pleasure, he was certain he'd never tasted anything as good as this steak. Unable to chew fast enough to suit him, he found himself practically shoving the sandwich down his throat.

"I'll you what, Dad and I first came to Philadelphia on a hunt. The guy we helped out suggested we get a bite here. After eating his first sandwich, Dad actually insisted that we hang around for a bit, doing research on the place. He figured with food this good; someone had to be making a deal with the devil. Every time we hit the coast after that we'd stop for a steak." Dean sat back face alit with pleasure at being able to share this place with Sam.

Sam paused from eating for a moment, grabbing his napkin he wiped his hands and face. Taking a long swig of his soda, he sat content to be just another tourist experiencing the wonder that was Geno's. After a while, Dean finally sighed, his face once again falling into road weary lines.

"Alright, what'd you dig up?" Dean asked drinking the last of his soda.

Sam gathered his trash from the table top and stood, walking over to the trash can and dumping it. As he neared the counter he actually paused for a moment, considering if he could manage another sandwich. Sighing slightly at the fact that he'd never stay awake if he stuffed himself with another he turned his back on the inviting ordering window.

Taking a seat once again across from Dean, he opened the screen to his laptop and turned it so that Dean could also see the screen.

"Ok, so there have been five robberies total in Bucks County. The robberies have occurred in five different towns inside the county lines. Nothing else specific in how they were picked, each store yielded a different take, the most was one located in Bristol. It lost over two thousand dollars, the least was in a town called Dublin there the robber made off with only three hundred dollars." Sam paused and pulled up another screen.

Dean leaned forward and caught a newspaper headline. Reading swiftly, he said, "There were no injuries up until the last three." Glancing at Sam in surprise, he nodded for Sam to continue.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, apparently this guy waits until the store is empty walks up to the counter, knocks the clerk down. Walking around the counter to the register, he yanks the drawer out and dumps the money in a pillow case." Sam quickly pulled up a video for Dean to watch. "Alright, now here's the first robbery."

Dean watched as a large man dressed in grey sweats, entered a store, and walked directly to the counter. The clerk anticipating a cigarette sale was relaxed. Until the robber's large hand reached out and picked the young kid up off the ground and threw him a few feet away. Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise. The kid behind the counter had been no light weight, it was no small feat for the robber to pick the kid up let alone throw him across the room.

Sam and Dean watched the screen silently as the man then proceeded to yank the till drawer out of the register, and dump the money unceremoniously into a flower patterned pillowcase. Money dropped unheeded onto the floor, instead of stopping to gather it, the man turned and walked out of the store, never once looking back.

"Shit," Dean breathed. "Did you see the way he picked that kid up? This guy's no lightweight."

Sam nodded in agreement; it wasn't often that Sam met someone taller than himself. Yet this guy was reported to be about 6' 6". "Yeah, we need to be sure what we're dealing with before we take him on. Now, the second robbery was the same. It was only as the third robbery occurred that anything different occurred. I haven't got footage of it yet, apparently local police are withholding the security tapes. Near as I can figure, in the last three cases, the clerks pulled guns. Each one managed to get a shot off, hitting the robber. Then, though he was hit each time he just kept coming, never even stumbled. Reaching out he grabs the clerk and snaps their necks."

Sam ran a hand wearily over his face, at a nod from Dean he gathered up his gear and headed for the Impala. Dean followed slowly thinking over all Sam had told him. As the climbed in and pulled the car doors shut, Dean paused with his hand hovering above the ignition. "Bullets didn't stop the guy huh, I don't know man. It's definitely strange, let's find a place to stay and we'll head out come morning, interviews, maybe even visit one of the police stations and get a look at those surveillance tapes." At Sam's nod, Dean pulled away from the curb.

888

"Dude, it's totally staring at me again," Paul said shifting uncomfortably.

Ron snorted and said, "It's not staring, Man, it can't stare. I don't think it has eyeballs at least not technically."

Dennis stopped his pacing. Once again the three young men had found themselves in Ron's basement. "Knock it off, you two. We've got to set up the next job, we can't keep this up forever. Someone's bound to notice something strange."

Paul turned toward Dennis hysteria creeping into his voice, "Something strange, Dennis? Something strange? You mean like maybe the fact that it can't be killed. Like the fact that he's not human. That's the 'something strange'. I'm telling you, I think we should bail. Get out while we can. Three people have died. I never signed on to be a killer man."

Dennis strode to Paul's side. "Lower your voice. Do you want Ron's mom to hear? Its bad enough she keeps asking about the stupid pillow case." Turning to Ron, he said, "I can't believe you were so dumb? You used your Mom's pillow case on a robbery."

Ron frowned sullenly. "Well, maybe if you two rocket scientists would help out a bit, instead of leaving everything up to me I wouldn't have made that mistake. I mean you forget you get to go home at night, I'm the one stuck here watching out for it."

Ron glanced toward the darkest corner of the basement, hidden behind an array of cardboard boxes stood a figure. Featureless in the dark, the figure never moved. Ron could see Paul staring at the man, nibbling his fingernails in fear. Ron shook his head and nodded at Paul. Speaking softly he said, "I'm telling you, I think that Paul's gonna break. He's been scared shitless, ever since we brought it to life."

Dennis grinned, raising one brow he said to Ron, "I've got it covered, should Paul go to the authorities he'll end up taking the rap. I'm telling you, Ron, I've left nothing up to chance we're going to be rolling in dough before you know it."

Ron and Dennis shared a grin and looked toward where Paul stood, nibbling away. Paul sensed their eyes and turned toward them, smiling nervously as he moved away from the hulking figure.


	3. Chapter 3

1

Dean pulled into the parking lot a little after midnight. Glancing at the two story motel, he noted the Mexican restaurant that stood in front. Pulling alongside the office, he put the car in park and nodded to Sam. "I'll wait here, try and get a second floor room. Last time we took a bottom room, we had to listen to that pacer. Remember I almost capped him. All hours of the night and day he's gotta walk. Swear to god it sounded like a frickin' parade."

Sam climbed out of the car, not even acknowledging Dean's rant. It had been years since that had happened, yet leave it to Dean to bring it up. Each time they approached a motel with more than one floor, Dean brought it up. Sam entered the bright room, and walked toward the long desk that was situated toward the rear. As he approached the desk he noticed the guy sitting behind it.

Slightly seedy looking the clerk flashed Sam a smile that would have looked more at home in the back woods of Virginia rather than the affluent town they were in. Sam found himself re-evaluating the motel. He had picked Doylestown simply because it was situated in the middle of the county and it was close to the first robbery. He suddenly found himself wishing he'd found someplace else when the guy in front of him shot a spray of spit toward the trashcan that sat next to him.

Speaking around a wad of chew, the guy said, "Restaurant's still serving if you're looking to eat." Pushing the registration form toward Sam, he took Sam's credit card and ran it through the machine. Taking a look at the card, he said, "All guests receive discounted passes to the comedy club, it's located above Poco's and shows run Friday and Saturday night." At Sam's nod he continued. "Thanks for staying at the Patio Motel, Mr. Bloom."

Sam simply nodded and accepted the keys. Leaving the office he headed out into the night. As he headed toward the car he noticed that Dean's head was back, and his eyes closed. A wicked grin settled on Sam's face as he approached the car. Upon reaching it he brought his hand down sharply on the roof. The noise, a loud hollow thump echoed in the quiet night. Dean jumped a mile at the noise and cursed at Sam.

Still smiling, Sam was careful to take a couple steps back from the car. He motioned to Dean that he could park a couple spaces down the building, near the set of concrete steps that led to the second floor. Careful to stay out of reach of the Impala, Sam moved toward the stairs. Not that Dean would actually hit him with the car, still Sam was taking no chances. As Dean parked Sam waited on the sidewalk.

Dean pulled into the spot Sam had indicated and cursed once again. Climbing out of the car, Dean flipped Sam the bird, and chuckled to himself when he noticed that Sam was staying out of his reach. Dean snorted at Sam's naivety, if he thought that he'd avoid Dean for a while and all would be forgotten than Sam was very mistaken. Dean was a hunter first and foremost, waiting out prey is what he did best.

In light of Dean's uncharacteristic quiet Sam began to become nervous, scaring Dean had been a momentary whim and now Sam was afraid that he'd be paying ten fold. As Sam snagged his duffle out of the trunk, he vowed to remain vigilant, he assured himself that he'd be able to avoid his brother's retribution.

"So," Dean asked finally breaking the silence, as he watched Sam enter the key in the lock and open the door. "What are we doing in Stepford?" Dean asked referencing the movie in which suburban housewives were replaced by robots.

"Doylestown actually, It's the most convenient town in the county. Also, the first robbery was a combination gas station and mini-mart it's located down the street. I figure come morning we'll start questioning." Sam and Dean both stopped talking as the door to the room swung open. Reaching in to flick on the light, the brothers entered the room. Noticing the room's sparse neatness,Sam sighed and took the bed farthest from the door. Kicking off his boots, he lay down hands beneath his head.

Dean moved toward the closest bed and dropped his bag on the bed. "I'm gonna get a shower." As Dean gathered a clean tee-shirt and a pair of boxers, he moved toward the bathroom. A glance over his shoulder before he closed the door, showed Sam already half-asleep on top of the comforter. Dean grinned his mind already racing with ways he could get even.

Upon hearing the shower turn on and the door close Sam opened one eye, quickly glancing around the room. Satisfied that Dean was in fact in the bathroom, he lay back relaxing for real. Closing his eyes, he allowed the sound of the running water to dominate his consciousness. Satisfied that he would awaken as soon as the water shut off, Sam allowed his tired mind to wander.

Dean lay on the hotel floor, muscles stilled, relaxed and waiting for the slight snore that always punctuated Sam's sleep. As he heard the tell-tale sign he grinned to himself, Sammy, Sammy he thought, you never change. As soon as Sam had laid down Dean realized Sam was faking sleep. Knowing that his baby brother would expect retribution after Dean's shower, and knowing his little brother's uncanny knack for waking himself when he wanted, Dean had simply and quietly ducked into the bathroom. Quickly turning on the shower, he'd then ducked back out of the bathroom and had dropped lightly to the floor. Lying in wait, he had pulled the bathroom door closed and waited.

As anticipated Sam had sat up in bed and quickly scanned the room, seeing exactly what Dean wanted him to see. As Sam had lain back down content in the knowledge that he was safe from reprisals, Dean had begun inching his way around his bed and toward Sam. Pushing himself along the floor, arms flexing with the motion, Dean approached Sam's side. Listening intently, he kept aware of any change in Sam's breathing. Rising up from the floor like a wraith, Dean gained his feet. Standing directly next to Sam, Dean almost hesitated. His brother looked so peaceful and content, Dean could let it go. Simply turn and take the shower he'd intended.

Aw... what the hell, thought Dean, what kind of a big brother would he be if he didn't retaliate. Really, Sam even expected it and Dean had made it a religion in life to do what Sam expected of him. With an evil grin he leaned down and said in his best Dad imitation, "Dude, up and at 'em." Dean quickly moved out of Sam's way. As anticipated Sam surged to his feet eyes blinking rapidly, ramrod straight, breathing fast, and swaying slightly.

At his brother's reaction Dean fell heavily to his bed and began laughing. Finally, he stood, reached out and pounded a hand against Sam's chest, nearly knocking the younger man off his feet. With a grin and a whispered, "Gotcha" Dean walked into the bathroom chuckling.

Sam shook his head still trying to grasp exactly what had happened. He fell heavily onto his bed with his hands behind his head and tried to calm his quickly beating heart. "Shit," he said aloud still feeling out of sorts from awakening so quickly. Finally, Sam relaxed against his pillow, stretching out his frame. As he lay, he found his mind wandering to the year he turned thirteen.

That had been the year that Dean had broken his right wrist. To say that Dean had found the restricitions the cast put on him to be wearing was an understatement. His constantly active seventeen year old brother had been unable to accompany their father on hunts, confined to the house with nothing constructive to do, he'd decided to teach Sam how to stalk someone.

Both John and Sam had agreed that Dean's stalking skills were unmatched. For a few years he'd been able to both locate John and follow him without ever alerting John to his presence.

Over the course of two weeks, while John had been on a trip, Dean had decided to teach young Sam how to properly stalk. Unfortunately for Sam, Dean ended each exhibition with a well placed, "Gotcha". By the time John returned Sam's nerves were so frayed he was unable to settle to anything, and sleeping had become almost impossible.

A week later with some serious instruction from his Dad, Sam had been able to get within ten feet of Dean without him knowing it. Glowing with pride, Sam had continued practicing and had finally managed to come within five feet of his older brother. John had glowed with pride, it was one of the few memories of his teenage years Sam had felt as if he really belonged in his family.

Sam grinned at the memory. Maybe, it was time to see just who was the best. Sam stood and stripped down to his shorts, grabbing a clean tee-shirt, he dressed and climbed into his bed. Lying once again on his back, Sam began planning his strategy. No longer a gangly youth, he intended to prove once and for all that he could hold his own with his big brother.

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Dean leaned against the door of the Impala and waited impatiently for Sam to make an appearance. Watching the stairs for any sign of his brother, he sipped at the coffee he'd made earlier with the room's small pot. As he waited, lounging as if he had not a care in the world his senses were on full alert. A movement out of the corner of his eye alerted him to someone approaching from the left, from around the far side of the building. Glancing toward the tall figure he was surprised to see Sam moving toward him.

Lifting a brow in question, he moved to open the car door. Watching as Sam shrugged him off, Dean slid into the car. "Alright, Sam, where are we headed?"

Sam drew out a notebook and said, "Make a right out of the lot, the gas station is up on the corner." Reading over the information he'd acquired, Sam said, "Now, this was the first hold-up. The clerk was an eighteen year old, name is Tom Stevens. Apparently, when the robber tossed him Tom knocked his head pretty hard, he lost consciousness. When he woke the guy and the money were gone."

Dean nodded and said, "Alright, so we question Tom and move onto where?"

Sam glanced down once again. "I think the state police should pay a visit to where the last robbery took place it was located in Buckingham, which is close by and the clerk was killed. Maybe the police are keeping something out of the papers, may be useful."

Dean said, "Ok, gas station first, breakfast and we're going to need a copy story." Dean started the engine and quickly made his way toward the gas station.

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Moments later Sam and Dean entered the Qwik Stop, and headed straight for the register. A solid looking young man stood behind the counter. At first he'd watched Sam uneasily, but after darting a glance toward Dean he seemed to relax slightly.

Tom Stevens had felt his heart leap in his throat when the door to the mart first opened. Features thrown into shadow, Tom had suffered a moment of deja-vue. It was only as the tall young man had come closer that Tom had been able to relax. The guy that stood before him was slightly shorter and was openly showing his face; also he was obviously with the older man at his side. Smiling Tom asked, "Can I help you guys?"

Dean smiled slightly and said, "I bet you can, my name's Dean and this is Sam we're reporters, we'd like to talk to you about the robbery."

Tom grinned slightly and said, "Sure, what paper do you work for? I already did a couple of interviews with the locals."

Dean nodded reassuringly and said, "I'm sure you did. Now, I'd really appreciate it if you could answer a few questions."

Tom nodded eagerly and said, "Sure go ahead."

Sam leaned against the counter and asked, "Can you give us a description of the guy?"

"Yeah, it's like I told the police. He was tall, I mean like tall." Tom stated his hand in the air as an indication.

Dean blinked slowly at this vague answer and pointed toward Sam. "Taller than him?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah, definitely. And he was built a lot heavier. Like a pro-wrestler, solid you know."

Sam nodded thoughtfully and asked, "Did you get a look at his face?"

Tom shook his head, turning to indicate an area behind him he said, "Nah, man I was turning to look at the cigarette rack figuring that's what he was going to ask for. Suddenly, I felt myself flying through the air. Landing was a bitch; I knocked my head against a shelf and passed out. By the time I came to he was already gone."

Dean frowned, his eyes quickly sizing up the young man before him. "So, Tom you run what about six foot, two hundred pounds and you're telling me this guy managed to heave you all the way over there."

"Dude, there was no heaving about it; he threw me like I was nothing. This guy had like some kind of super strength." Tom seemed to hear his own words and stopped unsure.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glanced. "Super strength, Sam," Dean said with an eye roll in Sam's direction.

Tom shrugged and said, "Believe what you want, I know what happened."

Sam nodded and said, "Thanks for your time, Tom, we'll let you get back to work."

Dean nodded and the two men left the dark recesses of the store for the bright sunny morning. Walking toward the car Dean asked, "Any ideas, geek boy?"

Sam shook his head and said, "I got nothing, except it really does seem to be something up our alley. Let's get something to eat before we head to the next store. I want to make sure we're prepared. I don't want to miss anything."

Dean nodded in agreement and clapped Sam on the back. "I've got complete confidence in you Sam."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam glanced at Dean as they headed toward the Impala. Earlier this morning he'd tried, once again, to sneak up on Dean, only to have him uncannily pinpoint his exact location. Sam was just grateful that Dean hadn't questioned him. Sam had no interest in watching Dean laugh himself to death at the idea of Sammy winning at "Gotcha".

"What now, Sam, cause that was a bust?" Dean said referring to the hour they'd spent in the WaWa Convenience store in Buckingham. "I don't think I've ever had a more useless conversation," Dean continued. Using their state police badges they'd tried questioning the clerk on duty but had gotten nowhere fast. Sheila, the clerk, had apparently been hired after the death of Bill Sanders. Taking one long look at the two 'state police officers' every coherent thought had apparently fled her mind. The only thing she'd managed to share with the brother's was that Dean apparently bore a marked resemblance to some former soap star. And a whole host of other useless information. Even Dean's normally smooth moves had been unable to shake anything remotely interesting out of the young girl.

"I've never heard anyone say so much about so little. I mean, we now know that her favorite gum is hubba bubba, her favorite drink is iced coffee and her boyfriend is the 'total jealous' type. I mean what the hell? We ask her if she has information on the death of a co-worker and that's what we get." Dean sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face. "We're going to have to hit the police station."

Sam nodded and climbed into the car, opening his laptop he pulled out his cell phone and dialed, Dean watching in interest. "Yes, hello my name's Rob Stutters, I'm calling from the Intelligencer, I was wondering if the chief was available to answer some questions this afternoon pertaining to the WaWa robbery?" Sam looked at Dean and grinned slightly.

"Oh, no he's not. Well then can I set up an appointment?" Sam said thanks again and hung up the phone.

"Alright so the chief is out, I say we go now. We should be able to get the information out of one of his men with less trouble."

Dean nodded in appreciation. "I'll tell you, when you want to you can spin bullshit like no one else."

Sam grinned and said, "I'll take that as a compliment."

Dean slid his sunglasses on and glanced over at Sam. "It was Sam, it was."

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Sheila watched as the black car pulled out of the lot, head resting in her hand she let out a giggle. Whew, she thought, still weak kneed from her encounter with the hot cops. Hearing her phone ring she quickly picked it up, reading the ID with a grin she smacked her gum a few times and said, "Hey Baby."

"Hey, Sheila sweetie, just checking in on you. How's things?" A masculine voice asked.

Sheila grinned, how lucky was she, not only did she have a great guy, but he was also the manager of the local WAWA. She'd been thrilled and touched when he'd offered to give her a job last week after she'd been fired from her last job.

"Everything's great, Dennis, It's been pretty slow so far." Sheila reached into her mouth and pulled on the piece of gum she was chewing. Stretching it she until it broke, she quickly put it back in her mouth and began again. "Oh, except for the two staties that just stopped in. I told them they needed to come back when you're here."

Dennis sat in the living room of his efficiency apartment. He'd called for Sheila hoping he could convince her to stop by on her way home from her shift, but now all thoughts of hooking up with her fled. "State police, Sheila, what did they ask?" Dennis wanted to scream in frustration as he waited for Sheila's reply.

"Um, I'm not really sure, Dennis. They asked about that guy that got killed, but I just told them that I hadn't worked here then. I know, I told them about you, and Oh, my god I just remembered."

Dennis moved to the edge of his seat, holding the phone tightly he said in a slightly panicking voice, "What, Sheila, what do you remember?"

"The older one looked just like that guy that was on that soap, you know the one that I mean?"

Dennis pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. Ignoring Sheila as she continued to babble, Dennis hit the end button on his cell effectively cutting off her chatter.

Fuck, he thought to himself, the state police weren't supposed to get involved. As far as Dennis knew they had no real jurisdiction. Dennis stared at the phone he held in his hand for a moment and began dialing, and then left a voice message. Standing up, he moved toward the dresser. Grabbing clothes, he began dressing, every inch of him waiting impatiently for the phone to ring.

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"Alright, Dean, in and out. No smart remarks and try to remember you're an officer," Sam chided as he and Dean walked up the sidewalk to the Buckingham police station.

Dean simply grinned at Sam and pulled open the door, gesturing for Sam to go first, Dean followed. The two brothers approached the desk that dominated the room. An older woman sat behind it, typing industriously. As Sam and Dean reached the desk, they waited a moment for the woman to acknowledge them. Instead she continued to type, fingers flying, nothing to suggest she even realized they were there.

Finally, raising a brow in question at Dean, Sam cautiously cleared his throat. As Sam feared the woman jumped a mile, one hand coming to rest above her heart and the other fluttering madly. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you," Sam apologized, fearing that he'd done more than just startle the woman. A moment later though her breathing began to slow and the color came back to her face. In relief Sam let go of the breath he'd been holding.

Alice Banning turned toward the two men that had appeared silently before her desk. Reaching up to adjust the hearing aid she wore, she smiled at the men in front of her. "I'm so sorry, I've just gotten a new hearing aid and I can't get the volume adjusted properly. Now, how can I help you?" Alice asked as she took in the rugged and handsome young men.

Sam pulled the badge that Dean had made and flashed it in front of the secretary. "I'm Sam Bloom and this is my partner Dean Lanier, we were hoping that Chief Richter was in."

Alice smiled charmingly and said, "Oh, no, I'm so sorry you've missed him for the day. He left early with a bit of a stomach ache, poor man was puking all morning before he finally gave in and left. You didn't have an appointment did you?"

Dean flashed his best smile and answered, "No, actually we're investigating the recent spate of robberies and were in the area. We just wanted to go over some facts with him." Dean leaned forward slightly and said in a smooth voice, "Maybe you could help us?"

Alice's eyes fluttered rapidly and she pressed her hand to her heart once again. "Well, I would be happy to if I can, can I get you boy's some coffee?" Alice asked standing.

Dean nodded happily ignoring Sam's pointed look and glanced quickly at the name plate that stood on the desk. "That would be terrific, Mrs. Banning." Leaning a hip against the desk, he quickly accepted the coffee the woman handed him. "So, we understand that Bill Sanders died of a broken neck. Is that correct?"

Alice shuddered theatrically as she handed Sam a cup of coffee, bringing a plastic wrapped plate over from the coffee pot, she set it on her desk and indicated that the boys should help themselves. "Please, call me Alice. Mrs. Banning was my mother-in-law." Rolling her eyes, Alice helped herself to a cookie "Yes, poor Bill was killed, that monster simply snapped the poor boy's neck. I just don't understand it; Bill went to school with my own Ronny. He was a football player, big as the day. Though," here Alice paused. Sizing up Sam she said, "Not as big as you, Officer Bloom."

Sam shifted uneasily at the admiration in the older woman's eyes. Nodding tightly, he continued, "From what we understand Bill shot the man point blank, correct?"

Alice nodded. "I saw the security tape myself, the shot was fired point blank and that man didn't even flinch. He must have been hopped up on PCP. Those druggies are always the ones causing problems."

Dean held back a smile and said solemnly, "Must have been. Was anything unusual found at the crime scene? Anything that the police may have found puzzling?"

Alice took her seat once again and asked, "You young men aren't' married are you. Because I've got a niece, she's the sweetest thing but just hasn't been able to find herself a good man. She keeps saying that she's only thirty-five and doesn't need to settle down yet. But, I told her she's in her child bearing years; if she doesn't get to it she's going to dry right up. That's exactly what happened to my good friend Mitzy's niece..."

With a hint of impatience Sam interrupted Alice's speech, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Banning, Alice, but we're on a bit of a time constraint. Is there anything else you may be able to tell us?"

Alice took Sam's interruption amicably and said, "Did I tell you about the dirt?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and said in unison, "The dirt?"

"It was the oddest thing, that bullet went right through the criminal's chest, and came out his back. It was found lodged in a wall, the bullet and the wall where it hit were covered in dirt. And, a spray of what appeared to be mud was left where there should have been blood. The police are thinking that he must have had some type of bladder filled with dirt under his jacket and that's what Bill shot. I don't understand people now a days, why would any one want to rob a convenience store with mud." Fanning herself slightly, Alice smiled up at the two young men.

Dean smiled and said, "Well, Alice, sorry but I'm engaged. But, Sam here would love to hook up with your niece," Dean's voice lowered confidentially, "It's hard for him to meet new people."

Glancing at Sam, Dean had to choke on a laugh. His baby brother looked as though he was going to explode. Patting him on the back, Dean shoved him toward the door and said with a wink, "We're going to be back tomorrow to talk to the chief. Sam here'll get that number from you then." With a wave, Dean popped the last bite of cookie in his mouth and herded Sam out the door.

"Jesus, Dean, one of these days I'm going to kill you. Why'd you have to tell that woman I'd date her niece?" Sam said as he whipped open the door to the Impala and slumped down into the seat.

"Calm down, Sam, it's not like we're going to be back and besides the poor spinster should have something to look forward to in life since she's quickly passing her child bearing years." Dean snorted and turned the key. "Now, did any of that set off any alarms? I'm thinking whatever it is bleeds mud, that can't be good."

Sam's anger dissipated in light of this fascinating subject. "Actually, I think I know what it might be. Let's head back to the hotel, we'll get some dinner and I'll see if I'm right." Sam laid his head back against the seat and began running ideas through his mind.

Dean reached out and turned the radio up, as the sounds of Blue Oyster Cult reached him he relaxed and gave himself up to feel of the car beneath him.

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Giddy with anticipation, Alice reached out and quickly dialed her home number. Upon hearing her son's voice, she said, "Ron, I need Tiffany's phone number, I just met the two nicest young men."

Ron had been in the basement when he'd answered the phone. Rolling his eyes at his mother's never ending quest to get his cousin married, Ron refrained from once again pointing out the fact that Tiffany wasn't with a man, because she was quite content with the woman she was living with. Ron knew it was no use though, his mother insisted that Tiff and her girlfriend were simply friends and would welcome the chance to meet a nice young man.

"I can't right now, Mom. I'm in the basement, I'll call with it in a little bit," Ron said his eyes drawn back to the TV screen in front of him.

"Please, Ron, this is important. They were State policeman, very young and handsome. Apparently, the State police are getting involved in what happened to poor Bill," Alice said.

Ron snorted at the upset he heard in his mother's voice. She insisted that he should be devastated by the loss of his classmate; little did she know that Bill had spent the better part of twelve years making Ron's life a living nightmare. When he'd first heard of Bill's death his only thought was that he hoped it had hurt.

Ron's thoughts snapped back to something his mother had said, "Wait, what do you mean the state police are getting involved. Did they talk to the Chief?"

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry the other line is ringing I have to run. Don't forget its meatloaf Wednesday." Alice hung up the phone before Ron could get another word out. Staring at the phone in his hand, Ron quickly glanced over his shoulder. He'd actually become used to the hollow eyes that stared back at him. Nodding, he made a decision. Dialing a number, he waited until a familiar voice answered. "Dennis, we've got trouble."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean leaned back against the headboard, remote in his hand, flipping channels. News, nope, Meg Ryan romance, definitely not, Thunder Cats? Huh, maybe, Dean thought, as he allowed the TV to come to a rest. A glance over at Sam was enough to get him to shut off the set completely. "What'd you find?" Dean asked noting the triumphant look on Sam's face.

Sam spun in his chair and faced Dean. "A golem." Sam stretched his arms over his head working out the kinks in his back. He'd been sifting through internet sites for over two hours and was only now realizing just how hungry and worn out he was.

He stood and picked up his jacket. "Let's eat."

Dean grinned and quickly stood, grabbing his own jacket he followed Sam out the hotel door, and into the waiting night.

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"Alright, Sam, we've ordered now what's up? What makes you think it's a golem?" Dean asked moaning in pleasure as he dipped a tortilla chips into a bowl of salsa. He sipped his beer and said, "Gotta love a place that gives you a snack before your meal."

Sam smiled at his brother's enthusiasm. "A golem is found in Jewish Folklore, it's an animated being created from inanimate matter, more specifically mud."

"Hence the dirt," Dean said, taking another swig of beer.

Sam nodded. "Yup, now having a golem servant was a symbol of wisdom and holiness, and there are a lot of stories linking them to prominent rabbis throughout the Middle Ages. The most famous story involves a Rabbi in Prague in the 16th century. He is reported to have created a golem to defend a Prague ghetto from anti-Semitic attacks. According to the legend, the Emperor ordered that all Jews in Prague were to be either expelled or killed." Sam paused taking swig of his beer.

"Following the prescribed rituals, the Rabbi built the golem with the clay from the banks of the Vltava river in Prague. The Rabbi's intention was to have the Golem protect the Jewish community from harm. As the Rabbi's Golem grew bigger, he also became more violent and started killing people that weren't Jewish. Unable to destroy the Golem, the Emperor begged the Rabbi to destroy the Golem and in return he promised that the persecution and violence toward the Jews would stop. The Rabbi accepted this offer." Sam finished as the waitress brought their order.

Dean thanked the waitress as he accepted his plate, tossing her a wink, he said to Sam, "Okay, Dude, so what now. Someone's using the thing to make money?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I mean nothing to trace, the creature can't be hurt. It's nearly perfect."

Dean finished off the last of his beer and said, "How do we stop it when we find it?"

Sam wiped his hands and picked up his notepad, reading he said, "Most stories say the Golem is inscribed with magic or religious words that keep it animated. Writing the word _Emet_ on its forhead is one, by erasing the first letter in _Emet_ and making it read _Met_, which means dead, the golem can be deactivated. Another way is by writing a specific incantation in the owner's blood on calfskin parchment, and placing it in the mouth."

Dean frowned slightly, "So, which are we supposed to do? Wash it's forehead or write a spell in blood?"

Sam shrugged. "Got me, I mean I can't find anyone that's dealt with a Golem before. I guess we see if anything's written on it's forehead, if not we assume we're gonna need the parchment."

Dean nodded and said, "Great, well that can be your job. Let me know what you find."

Sam chuckled and pushed back from his seat. "Hey, man listen I'm going to head up to our room. I want to check out a few more things. I'll catch you in a bit."

"Sam, come on. Sit we'll have a couple of beers. It's not like anything can be done tonight," Dean implored.

Dean watched in disgust as Sam shook his head and got to his feet, passing within inches of a table of gigling young woman. One of the ladies wore a shirt that read, "Stop, Bachlorette Party in Progress". Dean shook his head, clueless, he thought, sometimes he wondered how Sam and he had come from the same parents.

Dean threw a glance toward the table, a rougish smile on his face. As expected one of the bolder woman, made her way over to Dean's table. Dean watched as the bleach blonde in the short skirt and low cut blouse leaned over him. Smiling, she said, "Hey, my name's, Heidi. We're celebrating my sister, Cindy's, up coming wedding, how'd you like to join us. We could use a little entertainment."

Dean leaned past the woman and appraised the others, each one seemed to have a bigger chest and a lower cut shirt. Grinning, Dean said, "I would looovveee... to help you celebrate." Standing, he moved toward the table. "Hello, Ladies, I hear you need help celebrating." With a last glance at Sam's retreating back Dean sank into the over crowded booth.

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Sam paced the confines of the small room. It was two oclock in the morning and Dean had yet to make an appeance. Sam would have laid down hours ago, and fallen asleep except he'd planned this to perfection and he didn't want to risk waking too late. Damn Dean and his hormones, thought Sam, as he once again rubbed his tired eyes. He stared hard at his phone. Dean had already checked in twice tonight and had assured Sam that he was still in the restaurant. Although, what he could still be doing there after all this time, Sam could only imagine.

Finally, the phone began to ring. Grabbing it, Sam said, "What's up, Dean."

"Hey, little brother I'm heading up to the room, you need anything. The kitchen's closed but I could probably get Maria to whip you up somehting if your hungry," Dean said his voice slurring only slightly.

Sam sighed leave it up to Dean to want to feed him. "Nah, I'm good. I'll see you when you get here." Sam quickly hung up the phone before he had to listen to Dean's rambling.

Dean stared in surprise at the sound of dial tone that greeted him. Shrugging, he grabbed the last shot off the bar and raised it in a toast to the ladies that surrounded him. "Ladies, this one's for you. If I'm ever in the area again I would be proud to party with you." Dean pushed away from the bar, and approached Cindy, the bride to be. Pulling her to her feet, he kissed her thoroughly. Pulling back he gave her a wink and said, "Tell Phil he's one lucky man." Staggering only a bit, Dean left the restaurant with a last wave toward the bar.

Dean stepped out into the night and breathed deeply trying to clear the fog that was in his head. A couple of deep breaths and he felt ready to head to his room. Walking around the building toward the set of steps at the far side of the building, Dean allowed his thoughts to roam. It was only as he reached the middle of the stairs that the hair on the back of his neck tried to stand up. Never pausing, continuing up the stairs with a steady stride, Dean considered pulling the knife that was tucked into his coat pocket. With his hand half-way there he grinned. "What's up, Sam? I said I'd be right up."

Sam had watched as Dean paused for a moment just outside the restaurant entrace. Sam had steadied his breathing, concentrating on his brother's somewhat unsteady stagger. Sam grimaced for a moment, he wished Dean was a little more sober. It didn't quite seem fair to catch him unawares when he'd obviously had a bit too much. Oh well, Sam had thought, no point in waiting. He moved across the parking lot, his passage leaving no mark. His shadow the only thing that revealed his progress, and that was visible for only moments at a time.

As he'd moved toward the stairs, his intention had been to catch Dean just as he made the left to walk down the uper walkway. Sam was at the bottom of the stairs, foot about to make contact with the first riser when Dean called out. "What's up Sam, I said I'd be right up." Sam watched in astonishment as Dean turned on the top stair and looked back at him, brow cocked in question.

Sam quickly caught himself and said, "Nothing, I thought I might like something to eat after all. But the kitchen's closed now." Sam started up the stairs head hanging.

Dean watched his brother climb the stairs. "Want me to run next door and get some take-out?" Dean questioned, eyes fixated on Sam. He wasn't sure but he thought that Sam was lying to him. Watching Sam as he told him no and then continued into the room, Dean let it go. He seemed more irritated than worried. Dean put it down to the fact that he'd kept him up so late. Clapping a hand on Sam's back, he said "Get to bed kiddo, we'll figure out our next move tomorrow." Dean watched as Sam quickly shucked his clothes and climbed into the bed. Dean kept an eye on him for a moment more before heading into the bathroom.

Sam lay down, suddenly exhausted. He was sure he would be able to get within at least a couple of feet, before Dean picked up on him. Rolling over, Sam fell to sleep still trying to figure out where he went wrong.

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Dean looked up at the forty-something watiress that handed him a menu. With a pounding head and aching eyes, he simply said, "Coffee".

The waitress grinned in sympathy and quickly poured the handsome young man in front of her a cup. She took in the sun glasses and the careful way he held himself and said, "If I can suggest something, we serve really good pie, it's homemade. I know a little caffeine and a lot of sugar, always help perk me up."

Dean looked up at the waitress and grinned carefully. "Sounds good, and keep the coffee coming."

Sam rolled his eyes, leave it to Dean to find someone to sympathize with his hangover rather than berrate him for it. Sam smiled up at the waitress and said, "I'll take the special." Handing over the menu, he waited until she left before saying, "I've got a plan."

Dean winced and sipped his coffee carefully and said, "Sitting right here, Dude, no need to shout."

"Sorry, man alright we need to locate who's controlling the Golem. Whoever's controlling it must have done their homework. I was all over the internet last night and though I found references to the Golem, I was unable to find anything on actually conjuring one. So I figure we should do a county-wide search of local occult stores, libraries, and maybe even synagogs. After all, it's a myth that's tied directly to the Jewish community." Sam leaned back and wanted to laugh at Dean's look of delight at the arrival of his cherry pie.

Dean's murmered thanks was heartfelt as he took his first bite of pie. Groaning softly, Dean forced his attention back to the problem at hand. "Actually, I was mapping out where all the robberies took place and I think I have the area we need to look in narrowed down." At Sam's surprised look Dean snapped, "You know, I'm not just the pretty face of the outfit, I can manage a bit of reasearch now and again. Besides, we lucked out last night I was talking with Candy or maybe it was Sandy." Dean paused a confused look on his face. "Anyway, doesn't matter, she mentioned this town, uh New Hope, I think it was. She happened to say that there were several shops that cater to, um..., unusual tastes. Now she didn't mention the occult specifically, but it's worth looking into. New Hope is one of the towns that a robbery occurred in."

Sam nodded hiding his grin, leave it to his brother to get a clue from a group of horned up bachloretts. "New Hope it is, we'll start there and see what we find," Sam said digging into his breakfast.

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"Dude, we're in deep shit," Paul said nervously biting his already ragged fingernails. "We're so gonna get busted and some dude named Tiny's gonna make me his bitch."

Dennis and Ron shared a look, Dennis answered, "Nonsense, Paul, no one knows a thing. We're as safe as before. There's no way two state policemen are going to figure out what we've done. Hell, we did it and I still don't believe it."

Ron grinned and said, "Yeah, except when we're counting the money. Paul, do you want to count it again," Ron asked gesturing toward a shoe box, on a shelf against the wall. "You know how much better you feel when you count the money."

Paul's gaze landed on the tall shadow that stood unmoving in the back of the basement, he shrugged. "I think I'm going to head home. I'm not feeling well."

Dennis nodded sympathetically and said, "Ofcourse, Paul. Go home watch a little Buffy and you'll be feeling better in no time."

Paul nodded. "Yeah Buffy, watching always makes me feel better."

"Well, who wouldn't feel better watching Tara and Willow make out," Ron said in an easy going voice. Ron raised a hand in salute to Paul as he walked up the stairs.

Ron turned toward Dennis only to notice him staring intently at their creation. "What do you do when you're Mom comes down to do the laundry?"

Ron shrugged and said, "I throw a sheet over him when I leave for work. I told Mom he's a manequine."

Dennis smiled and turned toward his friend. "And she buys that?" At Ron's nod, Dennis shook his head. "Okay, Dude, head in the game. What are we gonna hit next. I think we've done enough practice runs. We need to hit something hard, something with some serious wadage."

Ron smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I agree, and I've got something in mind." Ron turned toward an old chalk board that leaned against the wall. Flipping it carefully, he exposed the other side. Ron smiled in pride as Dennis let out a long whistle.

"Man, this is so gonna rock." Dennis suddenly turned toward Ron. "Do you think they're going to cause problems? I mean another heist is sure to set them off."

Ron shook his head and said, "Look at part two of the plan."

Dennis leaned closer to the board, his jaw dropping slightly at what he read. "Dude, we so rock."

888

Dean pulled the black car alongside the parking meter and put it in park. "So, The Now and Then, huh?"

Sam nodded and pointed to the small shop just beneath the bridge that led over the Delaware River and into New Jersey. Dean could just make out the psycadelic sign that hung over the shop. Climbing out of the car, Dean asked, "Did you call ahead?"

Sam nodded and said, "Yeah, I asked a couple of questions. Didn't want to get too specific over the phone. It sounds like a definant possability."

"Okay, then," Dean said with a smirk "Let's go shopping."

As Sam and Dean entered the shop, they were met with darkness and an overwhelming smell of incense. The shop was crammed to the brim with pshycadelic paraphania, posters of Jimmy Hendrix and Joplin, incense and bongs. Beaded curtains seperated sections of the shop from one another.

Sam moved toward the counter and saw a bleary eyed young man behind it. The kid was probably a few years older than Sam but that's where all comparisons ended. His large brown eyes, were blood shot and droopy. He sat on a stool, elbow leaning on the counter his head resting in his hand. As Sam approached it seemed to take a couple of minutes for it to register that he had customers. Finally, he straightened slowly and blinked up at Sam and Dean.

Sam and Dean exhanged looks, with a slight nod from Dean, Sam said, "Hey, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions?"

Tim blinked once again at the straights that had just walked into his shop. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he was a first concerned they were cops. At the younger man's tone, he relaxed a bit. Smiling widely, he said, "Fire away."

Sam nodded and began, "I'm interested in Jewish Folklore, most specifically anything relating to Prague in the 16th Century." Sam watched as Dean rolled his eyes at him, and realized his brother was having his doubts. Sam stared at Dean for a moment, before the older man nodded. Sam returned his attention to the clerk and waited.

"Prague, huh," said Tim. "I've gotta take some time and find out what happened in Prague, man. Between you and Stoner Paul I should change my line of work and become a librarian."

Suddenly a female voice from behind one of the curtains spoke up, "Tim, dude, you are a librarian. good God, man lay off the weed. You've got a degree from Brown."

Sam tried not to let his surprise show, when a woman walked out from behind the curtain. She was small in stature and curvy could best describe her figure. She wore a suede halter top, and a long brown skirt, her brown hair hung down her back, and she had a nose ring. She looked like a throw back to the sixties, but her voice was no nonsense and her eyes were clear and direct.

"Gotta excuse, Timmy there, he's slow on the uptake but he knows his stuff. You guys cops?" The young girl asked as she picked up a pack of clove cigarettes and lit up. Drawing deeply, she said, "You don't look like cops, but you ask questions like cops."

Dean bristled slightly at the comparison. "We ain't cops."

Sam broke in before Dean could say anymore, hands held up lightly, Sam smiled, "We're just looking for some information. I heard that this was the place to get it."

"I'm, Stella, I own the store. You need information on folk lore, I got it, come on back." Stella turned and led the men back toward the curtain she'd come out of.

Sam entered the room behind Stella and gasped, he just couldn't help himself. All four walls were lined from top to bottom with various books. Piles were laid on the floor and there was barely room to walk.

Stella turned and indicated the books with pride. "Largest collection of folk lore in the United States. I've got it all and I'm always searching for more. Now, I heard you ask about Jewish Folklore as it pertains to Prague in the 16th century right." Stella turned and quickly began sorting piles. "I received a shipment in about eight months ago, all of it purchased off of e-bay from an old man in Josefov which is in the city itself. Really great quality. Anyway, this what I have." Stella offered the books to Sam, who took them with an air of revernce.

Dean rolled his eyes at the geeks before him. Both spoke hurridly praising the volumes before them. Dean finally interupted. "Listen, I hate to interrupt the love fest, but we're on a schedule."

Sam reluctantly returned the books to Stella and asked, "Tim mentioned that another customer had been interested in the same subject."

Stella nodded. "Yeah, Stoner Paul, he was here when the books came in. He helped Tim unpack and organize them. Tim said he was hooked on the the books about the fabled Rabbi Loew the Maharal of Prague. Paul came to me a couple days later and asked to borrow them. He returned them good as new a couple of weeks ago."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. "Any chance we could get Paul's last name, we'd love to talk to him," Dean asked.

Stella, sized the men up again, "Is he in trouble? Cause I gotta tell you, he really is a good kid."

Dean answered smoothly, "No, no trouble at all. We just need to ask him some questions."

Stella nodded. "Stanely, Paul Stanely's his name. He lives at his Mom's place in Buckingham."

Dean and Sam nodded their thanks and turned to leave, Sam hesitated for a moment and said, "Stella, if I get the chance before we leave town. Do you think I could take a look at your collection?"

Steall grinned proudly. "Impressive isn't it. Sure come in anytime. I'm always happy to show it off."

Sam grinned like a little boy on Christmas morning and practically skipped out of the room. Dean smiled at his brother's enthusiasm. Leave it to Sam to get off on a room full of books.

888

Dennis stood warily, he'd gotten used to the creature they'd dubbed Frank a while ago. Although, the creature had never exhibited any kind of emotion, Dennis kept waiting for some sign of humanity. Frank stood tall and imposing in the worn out sweats of Ron's long dead dad. Dennis breathed through his nose uncomfortable with the earthan odor that rolled off of Frank in waves.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Dennis  
?" Ron asked nervously, a picture held loosely in his hand.

Dennis nodded and turned to Ron. "Yeah, this is the way to go. Show him the picture." Dennis watched as Ron held a glossy eight by ten photo in front of Frank. "Now, he won't stop right until he's dead right."

Ron ignored Dennis's question and said to the creature in front of him, "Kill." Ron watched for some sign that Frank understood but there was no emotion in his face. Ron held the photo for a moment more and then stepped back as Frank began moving across the basement toward the set of open double doors at the far end.

Ron nodded to Dennis. "He won't stop until he's dead. Our worries are going to be over soon."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean pulled the car up the long drive, parking in front of the garage he climbed out. A neat two-story house stood to his left, flowers beckoned and the place was well cared for. Dean raised a brow in surprise to Sam and headed toward the door.

Reaching up, he knocked on the door. While he waited for someone to answer he elbowed Sam in the ribs. "Hey, what were you really doing out of the room last night," Dean asked waggling his eyebrows at his little brother. "You weren't out mixing with the locals were you?"

Dean was surprised to see Sam flush, turning toward him intending to question him further, Dean stopped when the door swung open. Smiling broadly at the sixty something, thin, blonde woman in front of him, he said "Hello, we're with the state police." Dean flashed the woman his badge. "We'd like to speak with Paul Stanley if he's home."

The woman crossed her arms and stared daggers at Dean. In a thick German accent she asked, "What has he done now, I have told him and told him that those friends of his would get him in trouble." Advancing out the door and down the steps the woman continued. "I should have made him move out before, he will be the death of his father and me."

Sam and Dean retreated quickly down the steps, Dean practically tripping over Sam's big feet. Backing up as the woman continued to advance, Dean was shocked to see she was taller than he was. Only by a little but it was still unsettling.

Dean exchanged a surprised look with Sam and tried again, "Actually, we're not sure that Paul's done anything we just need to speak with him. Ask him a few questions," Dean said once again trying a smile.

Mrs. Stanley frowned fiercely at Dean once more, practically growling, she said, "Humph, he did it I'm sure. Whatever it was he did it." The woman abruptly lifted one arm, practically taking off Dean's nose in the process. "He's over the garage. You tell him I won't be bailing him out this time." With these words, the woman retreated into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Dean turned toward Sam. "Well, she has all the warmth of Hitler on a bad day. I felt like I should have saluted."

Sam snorted and headed toward the stairs located on the side of the detached two story garage. Climbing the flight of stairs quickly, Sam reached out and knocked loudly on the door. Even from outside he could hear the pounding pulse of some nameless song. Prepared for an onslaught of sound when the door opened, Sam was unprepared for the billowing cloud of smoke that wafted out with it. Sam turned a worried glance toward Dean, and shook his head at the grin on his older brother's face. "Dean," Sam warned in a low voice. Dean just shook his head and set his face into more serious lines.

Sam's eyes widened at the man that came unsteadily to the door. Paul had to be about six foot six, and over three hundred pounds. Everything about him was round, from his shaved head, to his round face, to his pudgy fingers. Standing in a white tee-shirt and a pair of boxers, the green of his eyes even more pronounced due to his red rimmed lids he asked in a surprisingly high pitched voice, "Dudes, you're not my Mom."

Dean leaned forward a bit, looking past the large man and into the dimly lit interior of the garage. Taking in the copious amounts of smoke, Dean figured that Sam and had better talk to the kid outside. All he needed was a giggling Sam and a case of the munchies. "Are you Paul Stanley?"

"Yeah, what's up? I got some stuff I gotta take care of." Paul turned and started back into the room.

Dean sent a grin toward Sam and quickly grabbed the young man's arm before he could retreat back into his cave-like apartment. "I think we'll talk out here, Dude," Dean said pulling on the kid's arm.

Dean was unprepared for the man to stumble back and into him. To keep them from both tumbling over the stair railing, Dean widened his stance and took the brunt of the man's weight. With a groan and a heave, Dean managed to get him up and standing.

Once he was upright again, Dean and Sam each took one of Paul's fleshy arms. Forcing him down the stairs they let go of him once he was at the bottom. Paul blinked in surprise for a moment as if he was not quite sure how he'd gotten there. As Sam began speaking Paul actually seemed surprised to see Sam as if he hadn't just been helped down the stairs moments ago by him.

Sam gathered his patience and said again, "Paul, we need to ask you about some books you recently borrowed from a shop called the Now and Then?"

Dean snorted at Sam's long-winded question. "Sam he's got beer brains, well not beer brains, but you get the drift. We're going to have to simplify here." Dean turned toward the kid and waved a hand under his nose to get his attention.

"Paul, where's the golem?" Dean asked bluntly, raising a hand to Sam in order to forestall any objections.

"He's in the basement. Fucker freaks me out," Paul said his voice almost cracking on the last word.

Dean nodded and shot a triumphant grin at Sam. "Okay, your basement?"

Paul quickly brought his hand up to his mouth and began chewing on his fingernails, "No, I told you he's in the basement."

"Dude, I got that he's in a basement. Who's basement?" Dean asked patiently.

"Ron's Mom's basement, she makes cookies you know." Glaring at the house, Paul mumbled, "My mom only lets me in the house to use the bathroom twice a day."

Dean noticed that Paul's eyes seemed slightly more focused. Nodding at Sam to continue questioning, he pointed toward the house indicating that he was going to check out the basement just in case. Nodding, Sam turned and began questioning Paul.

Dean moved quietly around the house toward one of the ground level windows, peering through the glass he could make out most of the basement. Taking in a large and relatively open basement, Dean calculated the consequences of either knocking on the door and again braving the prickly German, versus jimmying a window and crawling through. No contest, thought Dean, as he began working his knife against the window lock.

Sam glanced over at Dean as he slipped into the basement window, correctly guessing his older brothers thoughts, Sam found that he couldn't blame Dean for taking the easy way in. Returning his attention back to Paul, Sam once again patted him on the shoulder. "I'm really sorry, you've had it so tough Paul. Now if we could just get back to the Golem." Sam rolled his eyes as the man's tears went from a trickle to a full on flood.

Great, thought Sam, just great. He was never going to complain again, when Dean stumbled home drunk. At least when Dean decides to get drunk he does it right. No drunken babbling, no fits of tears, he just vomits and pass's out like a man.

"Come on, Paul, it's real important that we..." Sam's attention was suddenly caught by a figure standing in the shadows near the far corner of the garage. Even in the waning evening light, and the shade cast by a row of pine trees Sam knew in a instant that it wasn't Dean.

Sam stepped in front of Paul and whispered quietly, "Paul, is that you're Golem?"

Paul gasped and pulled Sam against him, tightly pressing himself to Sam's back. "Oh shit, oh godamn shit. What's it doing here?"

Sam tried to separate himself from the death grip that Paul had around him but could only manage to pull away slightly. Reaching into his pocket, Sam dialed Dean's number and hit send. Unable to put the phone to his ear, he said loudly, "Dean, it's here."

Sam left the line open and once again tried to force Paul's arms apart. Taking his eyes off the shadow for a moment, he managed to twist free, breaking Paul's grip. Taking a step away from the big man, Sam's eyes once again darted towards the shadows. The Golem was gone, Sam felt a tightening in his spine, his senses on alert, he stood quiet as a shadow himself. There, he thought, as he turned he pulled Paul's arm with him. He was careful to keep out of reach of the panicked young man, but also to keep himself between Paul and the Golem. Sam saw it advancing toward them.

To say that the creature was a hulk was an understatement. Even though it probably stood within a half-inch of Paul that's where the physical resemblance ended. The golem seemed to be made of solid rock. It held it's arms straight down at his sides, his long stride eating up the distance between Sam and Paul.

Sam quickly began backing away, pushing Paul behind him. The creature was quickly closing the distance between them. Sam pulled out his .45 without much hope. Taking aim as he continued to back up, he tried to shut out Paul's frightened whimpers. That's when Sam tripped, one moment he was moving backward, Paul behind him and the next he was down on the ground. Trying quickly to recover it took a moment for Sam to notice the creature had passed right by him without a glance.

Paul was now stumbling in his haste to get away from his creation. Sobbing, with tears blurring his vision, he knew he would be unable to get away. Turning and making one last break for, he felt a hand suddenly grip his ankle. Paul stumbled and fell to the ground. Struggling to free himself, he at first didn't notice the voice that was yelling at him.

Dean made a thorough sweep of the basement, and found nothing more interesting than what was probably an old stash of Paul's. He stood considering it for a moment, and then with a sigh he replaced it where he'd found it. Dean's phone rang out in the silence of the basement and Dean cursed Sam's bad timing. Heading toward the window, afraid that the sound of Filter's 'Nice Shot Man' his current ring tone, would have alerted Paul's extremely scary mom.

"Dude, I'm trying to hide from the freakishly large German woman," Dean said as he answered the phone. Listening for a moment, he heard Sam's voice. As if from a distance his brother said, "Dean, it's here."

A moment later, Dean was heaving himself through the window, when he saw the creature closing the distance between it and Sam. Just as Dean levered himself halfway through he saw Sam fall, leaning on the windowsill, pulling his gun out from the back of his jeans where it was tucked he took aim.

Dean lowered his gun as he saw the creature go right past Sam and continue to follow the kid. Dean was out of options at this point, he knew his gun wouldn't even knock the golem down. Desperate, he waited until the kid was level with the window. Dean then made a grab for the boy's ankle and pulled with all his might. Sending a prayer up to the fates that be, that the kid would fit through the window Dean kept on pulling.

"Aw, Fuck stop kicking me, I'm trying to help you," Dean growled as the kid's sneaker connected once again with his face. Still pulling the struggling kid, Dean cursed a blue streak as the kid's legs passed through the window only to have his hips jam in the frame. Pulling repeatedly, Dean ignored Paul's pitiful cries and kept on pulling. Dean finally got a good grip on Paul's legs, bracing both feet against the concrete basement wall, he pulled until the veins in his neck stood up in relief. "Awwwwww..." Dean said as he pulled.

Dean suddenly felt himself falling unable to get his feet under him he hit the floor, flat on his back. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh. And to make matters worse Stoner Paul landed directly on top of him. Dean nearly passed out from the impact. Barely holding onto consciences ness, he began trying to shrug himself out from under Paul.

Dean turned his head at a thundering sound on the stairs. Relief was evident on his face as he took in Sam's lithe figure coming down the stairs at a break neck speed. Dean was slightly less overjoyed at the sight of Mrs. Stanley, rifle in hand, also following Sam down the stairs.

Sam smothered the slightly hysterical laugh that threatened to overwhelm him at the sight of his tough-as-nails big brother trapped under Stoner Paul's less than small ass.

As Sam moved to help him Dean said, "Dude, I swear to god, if you laugh, I'll slug you one just as soon as I'm free." Dean watched with eyes like a hawk as Sam successfully choked back his laughter. Glaring at Sam to press home the point, Dean sighed with relief, once Sam rolled Paul off him. He sat up slowly one hand pressed against his chest.

Sam knelt beside Dean and braced his shoulders for a moment. "You okay, Dean?" Sam nodded at his brother's typical "I'm fine" response. Sam moved toward Paul who was just now coming awake.

Paul clawed his way out of unconsciousness, taking in the fact that he'd somehow ended up in his parent's basement. "What happened?" he asked his voice shaky and weak.

Sam stood next to Paul and offered him a hand. "Any idea who would try and kill you, Paul? That Golem was going for you specifically."

Dean staggered to his feet and quickly moved towards the window they'd come through, picking up a box full of free weights that had been sitting on the floor, Dean hefted it up and blocked the window. "Not now, Sam, we gotta get him out of here. Then we can worry about the whys. What's it doing?"

Sam faced his brother and shrugged, "As soon as Paul was out of sight it just kinda stopped. I came through the kitchen door," Sam said glaring at the German woman who'd done her level best to keep him from entering her house with his shoes on. "I heard it follow, grabbed the Frauleine here and came down the kitchen steps."

Dean swore, "It's like Night of the Fucking Living Dead out there. How are we supposed to stop this thing? I didn't get a great look, but I'm pretty sure that Frank didn't have any words on his forehead. Which means our only option is the incantation on calfskin in the creator's blood."

Sam's forehead creased, "Frank?"

Dean shrugged eyes widening. "Yeah, I mean we gotta call it something right? I figured Frank, as in Frankenstein."

Sam laughed aloud at his brother's reasoning. "You know what they say, Dean, once you name it you have to keep it."

Dean returned Sam's smile and said, "Oh yeah, you and him can flip for shotgun in the Impala."

Sam snorted and turned toward Paul. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean heading for the stairs with the intention of blocking the door for the time being. "Alright, Paul, time to spill. Who created this thing and how do we stop it?"

Paul leaned heavily against the washing machine and avoided the direct gaze of the young man before him. Scared sober he began, "A couple months ago, me and some buddies..."


	7. Chapter 7

Nothing that Paul said shocked the brothers, it was pretty much as they'd pictured it. Three guys sitting around with too much time and not enough brains, no, it really wasn't surprising. The brothers couldn't count the number of times they'd had to destroy something that had been created by people with bad intentions. Sometimes, Dean wondered why they bothered fighting. As long as people continued to be selfish and greedy, evil would have something to feed off of. God knows, Dean thought, that selfish and greedy are what people do best.

Dean's attention was suddenly grabbed by the sight of Mrs. Stanley hauling off and whacking her son up the back of the head. Dean winced in sympathy; he could only image how many times in his life Paul had received such a knock. The tall woman followed up the blow with a spate of German that Dean surmised included a few choice curses. Coming to a halt at last, Mrs. Stanley reached out and pulled Paul to her meager bosom, practically suffocating the guy. Dean rolled his eyes and turned toward Sam.

"Sam, you take God's gift to stupidity here and go track down the other Einstein's. I'll hold Frank here while you get the incantation." Dean grimaced and continued, "All we gotta do then is figure out how to get the big guy to open up and say Ah. We shove the paper in his mouth and problem's solved."

Sam shook his head at the idea of splitting up. He knew what it would take for Dean to stop the invincible monster. "No, listen. Paul here can get the spell." Sam frowned and continued, "don't shake your head at me."

Dean was frowning before Sam finished. "Won't work, these guys have already tried to off Paul. They're not going to have any interest in helping him stop Frank." Dean's head cocked to the side and he held up his hand for a moment. Listening carefully, he heard something trying to break down a door. "Gotta shag ass, Sam, it sounds like he's almost inside. Go on. I'll be fine." Dean turned and moved toward the basement steps.

Sam headed for the window and overturned a bucket from the wash sink. Flipping it over, he set it beneath the window and took one more look at his brother. With a grimace, Sam said to Paul, "You heard the man, let's go. Mrs. Stanley you can come with us, it'll be safer."

Sam was surprised when the German woman sniffed and set aside the rifle she carried. In her thick accent, she said, "I will stay here and help hold it back. You will protect my son." With a decisive nod, she grabbed a shovel that was leaning with some other tools and moved to stand beside Dean. Glaring intently at the basement door, she held the shovel ready.

Sam shot Paul a questioning glance. Paul shrugged and said, "She's tougher than she looks."

Dean heard the exchange and chuckled under his breath. Hell, he didn't think he was tougher than Mrs. Stanley looked. "Go, Sam, now." Dean could hear the splintering of the outside door, followed by heavy footsteps walking across what he figured was the kitchen. Bracing his shoulder against the door, Dean said once again, "Go".

Sam quickly and easily pulled himself up and out of the window. Once outside he braced himself and grabbed Paul's arms. Sam began helping the kid haul himself out of the opening. As Sam pulled, he had a fleeting thought that maybe Dean had gotten the better end of the deal. A glance back inside the basement showed him Dean's grinning expression as his brother set his shoulder against the basement door. Sam flashed him a quick smile and pulled even harder.

Dean stood, back to the door, and watched as his brother pulled Paul out of the basement window. He found himself snickering as Paul's ass snagged once again in the frame. As Sam continued to struggle with the heavyset man, Mrs. Stanley finally moved toward the window and her son's rear. Standing on the bucket, she put her shoulder to Paul and shoved. Like a cork from a bottle, Paul popped free with a groan.

Dean saw Sam hesitate outside the window and he gestured for Sam to take off. Accepting the heavy wooden baseball that Mrs. Stanley handed him, Dean nodded his thanks and said, "Be ready. We're following them out that window just as soon as we hear the car go down the drive."

Dean felt the door shudder beneath his shoulder as the creature tried opening it. Putting all his weight against it, he tried to keep his balance as he waited. Counting off steps in his head, he figured Sam should be at the car by now.

Dean strained his ears listening for the distinctive rumble of his baby. Suddenly the pressure, against the door was released. Dean put an ear to the door and listened, trying to get an idea of what the monster was doing. Hearing the heavy tred of Frank's footsteps moving away from the basement door had Dean suddenly shouting, "Fuck".

Opening the door, he quickly ran toward Frank's retreating back. He should have known, he thought, the creature could somehow track its victims. It had somehow sensed that Paul was no longer in the house and now it was heading for Sam.

Dean listened intently as he moved up behind the creature. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Dean realized the noise he was hearing wasn't his heart beating in his ears, but the sound of his baby's growl. He could clearly hear the car idling in the drive but wondered why it had yet to move. Not taking the time to worry about the consequences, when did he ever, Dean pulled back the bat and aimed for the creature's head. Swinging the bat with every ounce of strength he possessed, Dean hit the Golem square in the head. A fine spray of mud erupted from the creature's nose, ears, and mouth, leaving the pristine kitchen covered in muck. The bat, instead of rebounding off its skull, as Dean had expected, actually sank into it a bit. It felt like hitting a bag full of sand.

Staggering from the blow, but still on its feet, the creature never stopped moving forward, toward the wrecked kitchen door. Dean backed away and set his feet, diving low and hard, his target the back of the Golem's knees. Dean tackled the massive mud man. He felt his left shoulder pop as he hit, shards of pain radiating through his back and chest. The hit had done what Dean intended though it knocked the creature down. Not allowing Frank to gain its feet, Dean grabbed a kitchen chair and brought it down in a clean arc on top of the Golem. Again, dribbles of mud fell from the creature to pool on the floor.

The creature continued to try to gain its feet, not even noticing the blow. Shoving pieces of broken chair away from itself, it managed to get to its knees. Dean grinned in admiration as Mrs. Stanley came up behind it and hit the creature full on with the shovel. An arc of mud flew from the Golem's mouth spraying both Dean and Mrs. Stanley. Mrs. Stanley grimaced in disgust as she once again pulled back the shovel and let it rip.

Groaning, Dean hefted his bat once again and followed up the German woman's shot with one of his own. Repeatedly, they continued to beat the creature. Mud covered them both and the kitchen was now blanketed with a layer of dirt. Finally, Mrs. Stanley staggered back from the Golem, shovel dropping to her side, her chest was heaving, and she was gasping for breath. It was then that Dean realized that he could no longer hear the Impala's rumbling idle.

Ducking out of Frank's way, Dean herded Mrs. Stanley out of the kitchen and into the dining room. As they stood in the doorway, they both watched in amazement as the creature stumbled to his feet. A torrent of mud flowed from the Golem and dripped on the floor. As they watched it began single mindedly moving toward the back door. Dean followed, holding his left arm with his right. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the empty driveway, Dean made no effort to stop the Golem when it moved into a stumbling jog and headed down the drive. Turning back toward the house Dean shot his best smile at Mrs. Stanely. "Well, I gotta say nice job Mrs. S. I'm gonna borrow the car and try and head it off before it gets to Sam and Paul."

Dean took in Mrs. Stanley's glare and shifted uncomfortably. "You will come with me. I will fix that shoulder." Dean looked at the back of the retreating Golem and considered following it rather than allowing the woman to play nursemaid. One more glance at Paul's Mom though convinced him that she would follow him and bring her shovel if necessary.

Sam continued pulling Paul out of the window, ignoring the man's groans of pain. He felt a moment's panic when the man wouldn't come loose. Visions arose in Sam's mind of him and Dean, one on either end of the stuck man trying to defend him from the Golem. In desperation, Sam finally pushed one foot against the side of the window frame and pulling used his legs as added leverage. Sam fell back against the ground as Paul slid free with a pained groan.

Helping Paul to his feet, Sam glanced once more through the basement window. Meeting Dean's gaze, he nodded at Dean's gesture to get gone. Chin set in determination, Sam led Paul toward the Impala. Keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the Golem, he herded Paul around to the passenger side of the car. As he gestured for Paul to climb in, he noticed the heavyset man was sweating heavily and his face was three shades whiter than it had been before.

As Sam slid behind the steering wheel, he turned the key and mentally thanked the reliable car. Turning once again, he took a moment to study Paul, the young man was hunched forward in his seat, sweat was pouring off his forehead, and his face looked even paler. Seeing the signs, Sam asked in concern, "Are you gonna puke?"

At Paul's weak nod, Sam panicked. Leaning across the large man; he shoved open the passenger side door and shoved Paul out roughly. To say that Dean would disown him if he allowed a stranger to puke in the car was an understatement. Sam would willingly tackle the Golem before breaking that news to his older brother.

Ignoring the young man's cry of pain, Sam quickly got out on his own side. Trying not to watch as Paul knelt on the hot asphalt puking, Sam kept his eyes peeled on the kitchen door. Hearing an unholy bang come from inside the house had him wanting desperately to go to his brother's aid. Instead, he said, "I'll tell you what, Paul, you better worth all the trouble to save you."

Paul used his sleeve to wipe the spittle from his face, climbing back into the car he whined, "you threw me out of the car, Man."

Sam's hard glance convinced Paul to be quiet. "No, what I did was save your pathetic excuse for a life. If you'd puked in Dean's car, there would have been no saving you." Sam quickly turned around and with a last glance in the rearview said, "Tell me where Ron lives."

888

"Man, did you see that move, I totally fragged you," Dennis said thumbs flying as he maneuvered the controller in his hand.

Dennis pumped his fist in the air as he said once again, "Fragged you again, Damn Dude you totally suck." Dennis's eyes were focused solely on the TV in front of him.

Ron sat next to Dennis, frustration evident on his face as he handled his controller. "Bite me, Dude. I totally got you that time."

Dennis swore and leaned forward, flipping off the x-Box he sat back, ignoring Ron's protests and said, "Man, forget the game. Old Frank ought to be finishing up by now. He'll be heading back here soon, and then tomorrow morning we'll send him off to First National Bank. Dude, I am so stoked."

Ron's grin echoed Dennis', sitting back, he said, "I know, Dude, we're going to be able to get anything we want. Hell, we'll finally be able to afford the PS3."

"Playstation 3? Come on, Ron. You're thinking small time. With this kind of cash we'll be able to come up with our own system. Just think we'll call it..." Here Dennis paused dramatically, hands in the air for effect, "The DenRon. It'll be the hottest system out there." Dennis' eyes closed as fantasies of gaudy woman and liquor flashed through his mind. "We'll blow Sony and Microsoft out of the water. People will kill to have our system, and the girls will come running."

"Yeah," Ron said in a dreamy voice, chuckling he continued, "girls, nice." Ron sat up suddenly "DenRon, that's a stupid name man. We should call it the RonDen, yeah, now that rolls off the tongue. Yeah...the RonDen'll get us the girls." With a hopeful look on his face Ron asked, "Girls? Dennis are you sure? Cause I don't know too many girls that are gamers."

"Trust me, Ron, girls'll come running once we..." Dennis sat bolt upright, hands shooting into the air, his face a mask of terror.

Ron turned slowly not sure what to expect. The sight of Paul standing next to a tall brown haired young man was surprising. The sight of the gun in the young man's hand was a shock. Ron looked nervously at Dennis "Duuuudddeee...you said we were in the clear."

Dennis nodded reassuringly toward Ron and lowered his hands slowly. "Paul, dude, we were waiting for you. Who's your friend?"

Paul grinned lazily and sat on the couch next to Ron. "That's Sam, so what are you guys playing?" Dennis asked as he picked up a discarded remote and flicked on the machine in front of him. Squealing in delight, Paul began playing oblivious to everything else.

Sam kept his gun trained on the two men before him. He found himself stunned at the sheer idiocy of Paul and the two men in front of him. Here, he and his brother were trying desperately to keep any one else from getting hurt and the 'villains' in this hunt were out to get nothing more than video games and girls.

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Listen, it doesn't matter who I am. I know what you did and I want you to undo it. Now, where's the incantation?" Sam kept his gun steady on Ron and Dennis and continued, "Just tell Paul here where to find it."

Dennis nodded. "Sure, no problem just chill. No need to freak dude. We've got the incantation right here." Dennis jerked his head toward a set of cabinets that lined the wall.

Sam waved his gun toward the cabinet and said, "Get it now."

Dennis held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved to the cabinet. Reaching in, he pulled out a sheaf of paper and turned to face Sam. Suddenly, he lunged shoving Ron at Sam and heading for the stairs at a dead run.

Hah, thought Dennis, I'm going to make...Damn. Dennis felt the hand at the back of his shirt grab him and throw him to the ground. He looked up in terror at a pair of intense eyes, the young man held Dennis to the ground by his throat. As Sam applied pressure, Dennis began panicking. Unable to budge the iron grip that encircled his throat, he felt a wave of dizziness and panic overtake him.

Sam shook with anger. Every instinct in him screamed for him to beat sense into this poor excuse for a human. Breathing deeply, he eased the pressure he'd been applying to the guy's throat. "Listen, you're little game has caused three people's deaths so far. I'm done being nice. Now get me the incantation."

888

"Oww" Dean winced as he felt his shoulder grind back into place. "Damn that hurt."

"Quit whining, I'll bind that and you will be set," Mrs. Stanley said as she gathered a length of ace bandage.

Dean stood up quickly, and carefully pulled on the button down flannel he'd been wearing. There was no way he'd get his tee-shirt back on but the flannel would do for now. "Can't bind it, I get the feeling I'm going to need it. I gotta go its tracking, Paul, just give me the keys to a car and tell me where this Ron lives."

Dean headed for the garage, the echoing shouts of Mrs. Stanley in his mind. She'd wanted him to call someone else, backup. Dean snorted, if there was someone else to call, someone else to rely on, he would have called them years ago. He would happily relinquish his starting position to anyone else, unfortunately, hunting wasn't a popular career choice.

Settling himself behind the wheel of Paul's beat Range Rover, he maneuvered the vehicle out of the garage one handed. Moments later, he was on the road and headed for Sam.

Dean snapped his cell phone closed and once again pounded a hand against the SUV's steering wheel. He'd been trying to get a hold of Sam to warn him for a while now. Pushing the already speeding vehicle, Dean hoped he'd get there in time.

888

Sam released Dennis and took a breath, calming slightly he moved away from the scared young man. "Get me the incantation, Dennis."

Dennis nodded gasping for breath, one hand held to his throat he gestured to Ron. Ron nodded and moved toward the same drawer that Dennis had opened earlier.

Ron's hands wouldn't stop shaking. He knew what the appearance of Paul in his basement, meant. It meant that Frank would soon be on his way here. Ron had no desire to watch Frank carry out his instructions here in his own house. Hands fumbling in his haste, Frank kept searching. Finally, facing the truth he closed his eyes and turned.

"It's not here. Dennis wrote it and I left it here in the drawer, now it's gone," Ron's words came in a rush and he flinched slightly at the anger in Sam's face.

Sam clenched his jaw, and turned surveying the basement, trying to once again rein in his temper. "Make a new one, now," Sam said his back to Dennis and Ron. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he noticed the no service signal. Cursing he turned at the sound of Ron's voice.

"Won't work down here, man, the whole basement is a total dead zone. We're all out of calfskin parchment; we only got a couple pieces of the stuff. It costs a frickin' fortune, I got a pretty good deal though. Got it off of E-bay from some guy in..." Ron's voice trailed off at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the outside entrance. Turning slowly, he yelped in panic.

Sam quickly moved between the creature and Paul, the latter who still seemed engrossed in his video game. Scanning the basement for any sort of weapon, Sam's gaze fell on a pick axe that rested in one corner with an assortment of other tools. Quickly moving to grab the axe and returning to Paul's side, Sam reached out and hauled the young man to his feet. Shoving Paul once again behind him, he said, "When I say go, go get out. Hit the streets and run. I'll hold it off here for as long as I can." At Paul's somewhat sickly nod, Sam turned his attention back to the creature that was advancing.

"Find that paper now." Sam yelled as he took his first swing at Frank, burying the point of the axe into the creature's chest. Sam jerked the makeshift weapon free of Frank and fell to the ground. Raising the axe end of the tool, Sam next brought that end down once again on Frank's chest, knocking him on the ground. Sam took a moment to wipe the mud that flew across his face. He cursed in dismay as the Golem kept trying to get up.

Sam's attention was drawn for a moment to the top of the stairs as a somehow familiar voice called out, "Ronny, is everything okay? I thought I heard someone yell."

Ron darted towards the stairs, careful to swing wide of the creature that was even now gaining his feet. "Everything's fine, Mom, don't come down. We were watching a movie, I'll turn down the volume."

"Oh," the voice continued, "Well try and keep it down honey I've got work in the morning. Goodnight boys."

Out of force of habit Ron, Paul and Dennis all chimed in, "Goodnight".

Ron rolled his eyes and turned from the stairs in time to cry out a warning, pointing he said, "Behind you."

Sam realized his error a moment too late. As an unbreakable hand clenched his upper arm and tossed him aside as if he weighed nothing. Trying to catch his breath, he called out to Paul telling him to take off.

It was only as Sam struggled to his feet, and had picked up his pickaxe that he noticed the panic in Paul's eyes. He'd squeezed himself in a corner and was shaking uncontrollably.

Sam moved slowly towards the creature once more. Drawing back, he drove the pick once again into the creature this time striking it in the back.

"Sam, drop." Without hesitation, Sam dropped to the ground.

The spray of rock salt that flew above Sam's head, struck Frank in the back as he was trying to pull the axe from his back. A geyser of mud erupted from the creature and coated everything with-in feet of it. The blast combined with the blow Sam had dealt had knocked the creature off balance.

Immediately, Sam jumped to his feet and was moving toward the drawers where Ron had searched for the parchment. Dumping the drawer out on the counter top, he sifted through the contents looking for the incantation.

Dean moved forward at once, grabbing the axe that protruded from the Golem's back. With a twist of his arm he freed the weapon. Hefting it in his hands, Dean aimed and swung. The blade cutting sharply into Frank's neck, pulling back, he struck once again. Ignoring the screaming pain in his shoulder and the splatters of mud that was spurting from the creature's neck, Dean kept chopping until finally the head rolled free.

Dean stopped and leaned heavily on the handle of the pick. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned toward Sam and said with a grin, "Maybe they can be killed."


	8. Chapter 8

"Dean, we have to find that parchment." Sam said releasing a frustrated breath.

Dean scowled, cradling his left arm with his right. "Are you sure, Sam? It looks pretty dead to me." At Sam's affirming nod, Dean sighed. Turning towards the three young men, Dean drew a deep breath and scowled. "Alright you three, I want that paper and I want it now. I'm going to start kicking your asses one by one until someone produces it and I'm going to start with you." Dean said pointing a finger in Dennis' direction. Dean grinned in delight as the young man in question paled visibly. "Now," Dean shouted as he dropped onto an old battered couch.

Dean sat, head back, eyes closed to mere slits and watched in satisfaction as the three young men began tearing apart the basement in search of the paper. "So, Sam, I chopped off its head, how are we supposed to shove the spell in its mouth?"

Sam shrugged and approached the head that sat a few feet in front of him. Squatting down, Sam studied the head carefully. Frowning, he noticed that it seemed wetter than it had before, almost as if it was melting. Sam had expected Frank to be ugly in some way, deformed like his namesake. Instead, he was a rather handsome man that appeared to be in his late twenties. Sam asked, "Dennis, where did the likeness come from?"

Dean watched as Dennis ignored Sam and continued to half-heartedly search the basement. Waiting until the guy came with in reach, Dean struck lightening quick. One moment Dennis was walking by the couch and the next he was on the ground, arm twisted up and behind his back. Tears ran down his face as he cried out in pain. Dean leaned close and said, "My brother asked you a question, you dumb shit. I suggest you answer."

Dennis nodded, and Dean released his arm. Scrambling away from the older man, Dennis moved toward Sam. Swiping an arm across his face he answered, "I had a picture we used. I couldn't afford for him to end up looking like someone we knew."

Sam nodded thoughtfully and turned his back on the corpse, eyes scanning the basement he said to Dean. "If they can't find it we're going to have to make a new one." At Dean's protesting groan, Sam continued, "We have to, it's not like we can burn the corpse. The only way to be sure it's not coming back is the parchment.

Dean walked over to Sam, in a quiet voice he said "We gotta call the cops, Sam; they can't be allowed to get away with this. We don't have a lot of time; we can't hold them in the basement..." Dean never finished his thought.

A blinding pain suddenly erupted from his shoulder. Breath knocked from his lungs, Dean crashed to the floor. Dean closed his eyes against the pain, it was then he felt more than saw Sam hit the floor close by.

Pushing away the pain, Dean opened his eyes. Dennis stood over Sam a triumphant gleam in his eye and the baseball bat that Dean had brought from Paul's in his hands. Dean quickly scanned Sammy's still form and saw that blood was quickly staining the concrete floor. Dennis must have hit Sam in the head, Dean let the anger that flowed through him fill him instead.

"Dennis, man, what the fuck are you doing? They're the police, you just assaulted two officers," Ron shouted, backing away from the crazed look in Dennis' eyes.

Dennis shook his head. "God, you are so stupid, Ron. What did you think, we'd stop the Golem and these two would say, 'Hey good job'. No, they had every intention of sending us to jail. I'm sorry, dude, but I'm not willing to face community soap, even for you."

Dennis kept backing up, keeping a careful eye on Ron and the unconscious cops. Suddenly Dennis backed into the Golem that lay on the floor. Laughing hysterically, he chanced a look at the monster he'd been responsible for. Ron watched in dreaded fascination, as Dennis knelt next to the monster and reached out a hand.

Dennis' body blocked Ron's view, but Ron could hear his friend babbling. Ron felt a chill go through his body at Dennis' words.

Dennis knelt over his creation, his creation. He'd done it; he'd created the perfect being. He was a God and he would demand the respect of God's. Leaning down toward the monster, he began speaking, instructing the thing that he'd made. "Kill them all, kill everyone." Over and over again, Dennis continued to chant these words, allowing his mind to go blank and his eyes to focus only on the creation before him.

Finally, Dennis pushed himself to his feet, grinning he faced Ron once more. Flicking a condescending glance at Paul, who stood behind Ron, as if his onetime friend would shield him. Dennis began laughing; nothing would save them, not this time.

Dean waited until Dennis stood upright once more. In one smooth motion the hunter gained his feet. His gun held loosely in his hand, aiming for Dennis' leg, he shot. The impact of his bullet taking down the crazed man. Dean spared not a glance for Dennis, instead he moved towards Sam. Carefully inspecting the head wound that Sam had received, Dean sighed in relief. The damage didn't appear to be too great; Sam's eyelids were already flickering open.

Dean sat and carefully gathered Sam in his arms, tapping his brother's face lightly he said, "Come on, Sam, flash those eyes at me. I need to know you're okay before I put a clip in that bastard."

Sam swam up from a sea of unconsciousness towards the familiar sound of his brother's voice. Blinking rapidly, he focused his eyes. Although, Dean appeared to be wavering, Sam was grateful he seemed to be okay.

Sam blinked a few more times and was relieved to see that Dean had steadied. As an after thought, Sam realized that it probably hadn't been Dean wavering, but his own eyesight. "I'm okay, Dean; I'm okay just give me a minute."

Dean nodded, and helped Sam to his feet. Guiding him to the couch and setting him down, he turned toward the sniveling pile that Dennis had become.

"Oh, for God's sake, you son of a bitch, quite your whining." Dean took a step toward Dennis with the intent of beating the shit out of him. A flash in the corner of his eye grabbed Dean's intention.

"Aw, Fuck," Dean said as he turned and saw Frank rising to his feet, head once again intact.

Dennis watched the older man approach him and began screaming in earnest. He was sure that the older cop was going to kill him. It was only when he saw the man's focus shift that Dennis was able to gain some control of himself.

Following the man's gaze Dennis gaped in joy at the apparition that had appeared. "Hah, take that you fuck." Dennis screamed as he began trying to get his feet back under him.

Standing unsteadily Dennis approached Frank and Dean and yelled, "You gonna fuck with me tough guy. Payback's a bitch". Dennis limped closer intent on watching his creation pull the arms off the guy that had shot him.

Dennis moved within arm's length of Frank and turned toward Dean. Dean could see the anticipation on his face, and Dean felt himself sicken. He knew he had no chance of stopping the Golem once again. Not barehanded, setting his feet he raised his gun and took aim. With nothing to loose Dean figured at least he'd go down fighting.

Dean watched as Frank seemingly intent on himself, moved level with Dennis. Once the two stood next to each other, Frank casually reached out and grabbed Dennis by the throat.

In an instant Frank snapped Dennis' neck and hurled him against the wall. Dean watched unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Dennis sprawled against the wall, the life gone from his eyes.

Ron realized Dennis' mistake only moments before, Frank killed him. Unable to save Dennis, Ron grabbed the pickaxe that the officer had used earlier and moved up behind the monster. Bringing back his arm, he swung burying the pick side of the axe into the monster's brain, and knocking it sideways.

Ron struggled to pull the axe back out of Frank's head but was unable, suddenly a second set of hands were around the shaft of the weapon. Ron glanced over at Paul and was unable to suppress a grin. Paul grinned back and the two of them wrenched the pick out of the Golem's head. Paul released the tool and stepped forward, bringing up the bat that Dean had used earlier.

Ron also stepped forward; together the two of them brought their weapons down in an arc toward the Golem. Over and over again, they beat and hacked at the monster. It was only as Frank's head was once again severed from his neck that Paul and Ron stopped.

"What the hell was that?" Dean snapped anger and confusion filling his words.

Ron gasped for breath; collapsing onto the couch he said "Dennis wasn't thinking, he told Frank to kill everyone. Dennis was in the room, so Frank included him on the list." Ron leaned his head back against the sofa; eyes closed and tried to calm his racing heart.

The sound of a door opening brought him up and around in moments. The sound of his mother's voice calling down the steps, spurned him to bolt to the bottom of the steps calling, "Don't come down."

Ron ran to the steps but was too late; she came down the steps, eyes wide and fearful. "Ronny, what was that racket. I know it wasn't the TV, just what are you boys up to?"

Ron panicked unable to explain away the last half-hour of what had happened. He opened his mouth to tell his Mom the truth. It was Sam that stopped him, the young man stepped forward blood staining his shirt and hands.

"Hi ma'm, do you remember me?" Sam asked smiling innocently.

"Of course, officer, what are you doing here?" Alice asked in confusion.

Sam smiled reassuringly "I'm a friend of Paul's I didn't realize that this was your house. Thanks for having us." Sam said confidently

Alice looked around at the carnage that engulfed her basement. "I uh, didn't realize that Ron had company other than Dennis."

Sam reached out and patted Alice's shoulder sympathetically. A quick glance confirmed that Dean stood blocking the woman's view of Dennis' crumbled body.

Sam took a deep breath. "Yeah, well it was kind spur of the moment. We..." Sam said, indicating Paul and Dean with a sweep of his hand. "Needed someplace to play our RPG, and Ron was kind enough to offer up his basement." Sam waited, unable to tell by the look on the older woman's voice whether she bought his flimsy excuse or not.

Dean caught Sam's eye and stepped forward carefully, "Mrs. Banning, Alice, we won't be in tomorrow to talk with the chief after all. Do you happen to have your niece's number on you now? I know how disappointed Sam would be if he missed out on taking her out.

At the thought of finally pairing her niece with a nice young man, Alice's eyes practically glazed over. Moving towards the stairs with lighting speed she began climbing calling over her shoulder "I sure do, you just wait right there. I'll be back down in a jiffy." Disappearing up the stairs, the men could here her moving through the house.

Sam turned in frustration to Dean "I was handling it Dean, why'd you have to remind her about the cousin."

"Don't worry, Sam, Tiff's gay, she's got a girlfriend, just take the number and be glad she didn't try and hook you up with my other cousin Mary Beth." Ron grimaced in horror.

Dean moved towards Dennis, grabbing the dead man by the ankles he drug the body back behind a pile of boxes. Looking down once more at the crumpled form Dean said, "Payback's a bitch, eh Dude." Dean quickly moved back to where he'd stood before at the sound of Alice returning.

A quick glance showed that Ron or Sam had moved Frank behind the couch and out of view. Dean groaned silently as he spotted Franks forgotten head lying on the floor near the washing machine. Unable to move it without drawing attention, Dean could only hope that Alice didn't notice.

"Oh, this is just so wonderful. I am just positive that you and Tiffany will hit it off. I'll call her tomorrow and let her know to expect your call," Alice said handing Sam a slip of paper.

Sam accepted the paper ignoring Dean's snort of laughter, he said, "Thanks, Alice."

Alice reached up and patted the handsome young man's face. "Well, I'll let you guys get back to your game. In know how seriously Ronny takes his Role Playing Games, just try and keep it down, Honey." Alice moved towards the steps. Suddenly something on the floor caught her attention, bending over she plucked Frank's head from the floor. Her hands becoming wet with mud, she held it out towards the men a look of revulsion on her face.

"What is this? Ron, is this what you made with the pool full of mud?" Ron stepped forward and took the head from his mother's hands, answering solemnly "yeah, Mom it's dumb I know."

Alice wiped her grimy hands together and said, "Oh, Ron you're a good boy. Have fun playing."

Ron smiled sadly and nodded at his Mom, watching her turn and head back up the stairs. It was then that he had an idea.

"Mom, wait." Ron saw her feet stop on the top riser. Glancing down in disgust at the head, that seemed to be rapidly becoming a pile of shapeless mud, Ron dropped the head. It landed with a splat. Wiping his hands on his pants he asked, "I had a paper, kinda funny looking with lots of weird writing on it. We need it for the game and I can't find it. Do you know where it is?"

Sam watched Alice's feet and felt a surge of hope; maybe they were due a little luck. "Hm, I think I did see it Ron. You left it lying on the table one day, while I was cleaning up." Sam's attention was suddenly caught by a low keening noise. Sam glanced towards the sound and saw Paul's terrified glance taking in the spot behind the couch. Sam caught Dean's eye and nodded towards the couch.

Dean moved forward once again picking up the axe, holding it shoulder high he moved behind the couch and couldn't suppress a groan. It was incredible, from the severed end of the Golem's neck a mass of gooey mud was pooling. As Dean watched it began to solidify, layer after layer the mud began to form a shape. Dean glanced at Sam desperation in his eyes as he noted that the creature's hands had begun to twitch.

Trying to quell the rising panic Ron asked, "Where did you put it, Mom? It's kind of important." Ron waved a hand towards Paul, hoping to stop the young man from making any more noise. "Mom?" Alice turned and began walking back down the stairs. In a panic Ron bolted up the stairs and stopped her before she could come all the way down.

Sam stood, unsure if he should help Dean once again behead the dreaded creature or if he was better off looking for the incantation. Finally he released his pent up breath in a whoosh as he heard Alice say "It's in the filing cabinet, I know how fussy you can be about your skits, Ronny. So I put it away."

Sam moved towards the grey metal filing cabinet that stood pushed against one of the walls. Opening the top drawer and noticing the green file folders marked A-Z, calling out he asked "Alice, do you know what you filed it under."

Sam's fingers flew over the letters as Alice said "Of course, I filed it under P for Paper." Sam shook his head and quickly thumbed to the P file. Rifling through the contents he said "Not there Alice, maybe you filed it under something else?"

Dean couldn't wait any longer, if he didn't stop the almost fully formed creature soon. It would be back to full strength. Making a decision he brought the axe down in an arc once again. The rusted blade cut through the still wet neck just under Frank's chin, like a knife through butter. Dean scrapped the axe across the floor almost like he was taking a golf swing and flicked the half formed head away. Relaxing slightly he nodded an okay at Sam.

"Mom, do you know what else you might have filed it under?" Ron asked in an almost hysterical voice.

"Um, maybe R for Ronny's papers" Alice replied.

Sam's fingers once again flew over the files, coming to rest on the R folder he again, flipped through and growled in frustration "Not there".

"Oh, I know now. I filed it under S for spells, that's what it was right a spell. Goodnight all." Sam could hear Alice move up the rest of the stairs and a moment later the door closed firmly.

Sam ripped open the S folder and spilled the contents on the floor. He quickly sifted through them until his gaze finally caught sight of a thick, leather like piece of paper. Separating it out, Sam held his breath. It was the correct paper and the incantation looked right. It was only as he looked more closely that he realized they still had a problem.

As Ron came back down the stairs he whooped in delight at the sight of Sam holding the incantation. "Boy, that was close," the young man said.

Dean noticed the anger in Sam's gaze and glanced at the paper he held in his hands. It was roughly the size of a piece of letter head, but was slightly thicker. It had a buttery color and was written on with a rust colored ink. Not sure what was angering his brother but knowing that it didn't bode well Dean asked, "What, Sam?"

Sam held the paper up and said to Ron, "This was your incantation to destroy an evil creature. It looks as if a five year old wrote it, and how exactly are we supposed to fit this in the creature's mouth. I mean could you have possibly done a crappier job."

Ron shifted uneasily and said, "Dude, we never thought we'd be able to conjure the thing why worry about banishing it."

"Sam, will it work?" Dean asked moving closer to look at the paper that Sam held.

Sam sighed in frustration and said, "If we can fit it in Frank's mouth, maybe. I don't know Dean I mean it's the complete incantation, it's just, well, it's messy," Sam finished lamely. He really wasn't sure just how much leeway they had in regards to killing the monster.

Dean nodded and said, "Hey worth a try, right man?"

"I've got a plan." Dean said with a grin. Dean moved towards Frank with a determined gate stopping suddenly he turned towards Sam.

"RPG Sam? Tell me that you didn't spend your college years playing some lame game, instead of getting drunk and meeting woman?" At the guilty look on Sam's face, Dean snorted. "You are so not my brother."


	9. Chapter 9

"Dean, man I swear. I never played I just had this roommate that was into it. That's it." Sam flushed at the skeptical look on his older brother's face.

Dean shrugged and moved towards Frank. "Let it go, Sam. Now, we're going to need a couple things from the car. We'll need a crowbar and a couple more rounds for the shotgun, just in case." Turning toward Ron, he asked, "Do you have any rope. We're going to need tie this bitch up." Ron nodded and began tearing apart the basement looking for a length of rope.

Dean kept his eyes peeled on the already re-forming Golem, Dean was hesitant to chop the creature's head off again. He needed the Golem fully formed in order to destroy it, but that also meant that the creature's full strength would return. "Let's move, guys, we're on borrowed time here."

Sam burst in through the basement doo in time to hear Dean, tossing his brother the crowbar he sent a questioning glance toward him.

Dean nodded and gestured toward the parchment, "We've got to get that down to size, Sam, we'll have to force this thing's mouth open. It's going to fight us."

Sam agreed, "I'll get it as small as I can, I only hope it's written well enough. This whole thing may be a bust; if it doesn't work we'll need to use Dennis' blood to rewrite it."

Dean blew out a breath and said, "What a nightmare. Come on, Ron, where's my rope?"

Ron stood head in hands trying to think of where he could get a length of rope. His brain was fogged with tiredness and he was having trouble focusing on any one thought. Finally, it came to him, the clothesline outside, his Mom would kill him, but hey, by tomorrow he'd be safely in jail.

"Do either of you have a knife?" Ron asked. Ron watched in unison as both young man proceded to pull out hunting knives. With a wary smile of thanks he accepted one from Sam.

Out into the night Ron ran, stopping only as he reached his Mom's twenty foot clothes line. Ron quickly cut through both ends of the rope, marveling at the sharpness of the blade. He glanced up startled by the appearance of Sam, who was already gathering the rope. Ron knew that Sam must have followed him into the night in order to keep an eye on him.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm going to help you kill that Golem and then you can call the police. What we did was stupid and wrong, and I am sorry. I just wanted to tell you that," Ron finished lamely, looking back toward the open basement doors.

Sam nodded. "You guys killed those people, the same as if you'd done the robberies yourselves, Dean and I can't let that go, maybe we can keep you from taking the blame for Dennis' death."

Sam watched as Ron squared his shoulders and headed for the basement once again. Gathering the rope as he went Sam could only hope that Dean's plan didn't involve his older brother getting beat up once more. Sam had seen Dean favoring his shoulder and Sam knew it was paining him. Reaching up he lightly pressed his fingertips against the wound in the back of his head. It seemed small and probably wouldn't require stitches but that didn't stop it from hurting like a bitch. Sam sighed and headed for the basement once again.

Sam walked into the basement and was unable to contain a snort of derision. "That's your plan? We'll tie the monster up. Glad to see it's nothing too complicated."

Dean turned and shot Sam a grin full of teeth, waggling his eyebrows he said, "Nice, huh?"

Dean turned and gestured at Frank who was leaning drunkenly against a basement support. His head was almost complete formed, Sam found himself averting his eyes, watching the creatures features take shape made his skin crawl. Sam tossed Dean the rope and moved toward the counter top where the incantation lay.

"Alright, boys, you're on. I need the big guy here standing flush against the pole. You two pick him up and hold him and I'll start wrapping the rope around him," Dean said gesturing to Paul and Ron. At the apparent hesitation in their steps, Dean bellowed "Now, move it, move it, move it," in his best drill sergeant voice.

Paul and Ron quickened their steps, moving to stand on either side of Frank. Gingerly they reached out and drew the solid man to his feet. The dead weight dragged on Ron, and Paul moved to compensate. Taking the brunt of the weight Paul got the creature against the pole. Everything from his back to the backs of his legs touched the pole.

Ron helped hold the creature in place as Dean began passing a rope, quicker and quicker around the creature. Dean was concerned that the Golem was once again almost complete, its hands had started twitching in earnest now and every now and then a shudder ran through its body. Dean passed the rope across every possible inch of Frank's inert body.

Over and over again he wrapped the Golem's body until the creature resembled a giant bug wrapped in a spider's silk. He had even passed the rope across Frank's throat, he would have included the monster's head but it was just now becoming fully formed. "Sam, we're ready."

Sam expelled a breath and said, "I don't know, Dean, I tried but it's still pretty large." Sam held up the paper he'd carefully folded, the thickness and lack of flexibility had made it difficult to maneuver. Sam had finally managed to work the sheet into the size of a note card.

Dean took the folded parchment and snorted "From now on we're adding calfskin parchment to our list of supplies."

Dean smiled and picked up the crowbar in his left hand. Moving to stand in front of the Golem, Dean stared at the formed eyes and said, "Open up, bitch." Lifting the crow bar, he moved to brace it against Frank's closed mouth.

Sam saw the awkwardness with which Dean handled the crowbar, without the use of his left hand he was having trouble steadying the bar against the already straining Golem. Sam reached out and swiped the bar from his brother's hand.

"I got this one, you can shove the paper in its mouth. You're always threatening to shove things down people's throats, well here's your chance to make good on it." Dean looked as if he was going to argue for a moment. Meeting Sam's steady gaze though he finally nodded and took the axe that Sam handed him.

Sam turned to face the Golem and once again reminded himself that although the creature looked human he was no more than a mixture of dirt and water. Hefting the crowbar Sam wedged it against Frank's mouth and applied pressure, taking every once of strength that Sam possessed he pushed Frank's mouth apart little by little. "Keep your fingers out of the way Dean, if the bar slips his mouth is going to spring shut like a trap."

"I got it, just get it as wide as you can." Dean took his eyes away from the ever widening gap that was Frank's mouth and studied the ropes. Frank's struggles didn't seem to be harming the rope, but it looked to Dean as if mud was oozing from between the bindings. "Ah, Sam I'd really like it if you hurried. I think Frank's trying to escape. Ron grab the axe, if this doesn't work we're going to have to behead him again." Dean nodded in approval as Ron moved up alongside him with the axe, Paul stood on Sam's other side with the bat.

Sweat rolling down his forehead, forearm muscles bulging Sam strained every muscle. Ever so slowly Frank's lips mouth parted, finally with a pained cry Sam pulled downward on the bar. Dean's hand darted forward so quick the motion was actually blurred; shoving ruthlessly he filled the creatures open mouth with the parchment. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and released the crowbar, the creature's mouth snapped shut with a snap.

In unison the brothers took a couple steps back, already preparing for the spell to fail. Each grabbed a weapon from the two nerds that stood on either side of them. Dean the pickaxe and Sam the bat, hefting the weapons they stood silent and still all concentration focused on Frank.

Sam waited, he'd expected something dramatic, and instead nothing had changed, Frank remained as he had been. Content to wait for a while, rather than risk touching the monster Sam held back.

Dean was poised, axe in the air, waiting for a sign. Something that would let him know that either his job was done, and he could grab himself a cold one, or else it was just beginning all over again and he had work to do. A glance to his left showed Sam standing patiently, Dean looked back at the monster and told himself that he could wait. Another minute dragged by and Dean's patience suddenly snapped.

Moving forward he reached out and touched the Golem's face. Finding the skin cool and hard to the touch, Dean expelled a pent up breath. "So, Sam, is he supposed to like" Dean used his right hand to indicate a sweeping gesture. "Just like poof out of existence or is he supposed to turn into a pile of mud?"

Sam shook his head; a glance at Ron showed Sam that the he had no idea either. "I don't know, Dean, what's it feel like?"

Dean pondered the creature for a moment and reached into his pocket drawing out his hunting knife. "Only one way to tell for sure" with these words he quickly cut through the binding that held Frank to the post. As Dean pulled the ropes away from the upper half of Franks' body he hesitatingly reached out a hand and pushed against the creature's chest. Huh, thought Dean, rock hard. Making a fist, the elder brother rapped his knuckles against Frank, hearing a slight ringing noise Dean turned towards Sam.

"It's done, Sam, it worked. Earlier today this thing was like a bag of sand, now it's as hard as rock. Question is what do we do with it?" Dean turned again toward the creature and finished cutting away the bindings.

Sam reached a hand out and touched the cold, stone like cheek of the Golem. Nodding solemnly, he watched as Dean finished cutting the bindings. Suddenly free from its constraints, Sam felt a blade of panic cut through him at the sight of the Golem falling forward toward Dean who was still crouched on the floor.

Dean looked up toward Sam as he heard his brother call out a warning. Seeing the Golem coming toward him he slid deftly to the side avoiding the monster. Dean watched as the creature continued to fall only to hit the concrete floor of the basement. The impact caused Frank to shatter in, the pieces flying to all four corners of the room.

Glancing at Sam, Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Guess it worked."

888

Once the creature had shattered into dust, Sam and Dean had quickly set about sweeping the pieces into a brown paper bag. At a loss of what to do with the powdery fine dirt they'd simply set the bag on the steps leading out of the basement and had turned to face Ron and Paul.

Dean had been the first to break the silence "Okay, you two. Here's the deal, you're going to prison for the murder of the three clerks and for the robberies. In turn for your full confession's we'll take care to make sure that you don't take the rap for Dennis' death. Deal?"

Ron and Paul had exchanged long glances before answering in unison. "Yeah."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances and moved away from the men. Voice so low it was almost a rumble Dean asked, "Any ideas, Sam, we got a dead body and Alice knows we've been here."

Sam shook his head wearily, "I've got nothing Dean, that doesn't leave us taking the fall for Dennis' death. That's not something I'm willing to do for those two."

Dean nodded and swept his eyes across the basement that had been destroyed by the evening's events. Finally, a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "What if Dennis died in a fall, terrible accident you know. The three of them got in a fight over the robberies and Dennis turned to leave, stumbles at the top of stairs and lands at the bottom with his neck broken."

Sam lifted a brow skeptically. "They'll think the guys did it, there's no way they'll buy that it was an accident."

Ron stepped forward and lifted a brow "What if there was a witness? You guys take off, Paul and I can handle this on our own."

Sam and Dean turned in unison at the determined tone in Ron's voice. "What are you planning?" Dean asked.

Ron pointed towards the outside entrance and said, "Stay out of sight and you'll see. Just don't call the police right away, let us handle this."

The brothers exchanged a glance, finally they nodded to each other and Sam said, "Alright, we'll give you a chance. I'm telling you though, we'll interfere if we have to and you won't like it."

Ron and Paul nodded in agreement.

"Let's go Sam; I'd like at least an hour's sleep before the suns up." Dean said as he gathered up the crowbar and the shotgun that had come from the Impala. Moving up the concrete steps to the basement exit he hunkered down at the top. Seconds later Sam joined him and both brothers, melted into the dark night.

Ron had been staring intently at Sam and Dean as they'd left the basement. A shiver ran through him at how completely they had disappeared. He could almost believe they had left completely if not for a low voice growling for Ron to "get on with it". Ron smiled sadly at the impatience in Dean's voice. He turned toward Paul and said "Well this is it, Paul, you ready?"

Paul moved toward Ron and clapped a hand on his arm "I'm ready Dude; here at least this will make it bearable."

Sam snorted as he crouched in the darkness, his brother's shoulder brushing his own. Voice kept low he said to Dean "I cannot believe they're lighting up."

Dean snorted and said "It's probably best, if they're smashed once the cops get here the accident story'll go over better."

Sam and Dean watched from the shadows as the men moved towards Dennis. Each grabbing an end they carefully moved the body towards the staircase. Laying him down on the concrete floor they positioned his body awkwardly. Taking a moment for a couple more puffs, they studied Dennis' lifeless body. Sam could feel their tension, Dennis had been their friend at one time and nothing could ever change that.

Finally the two, moved around the basement doing a quick but surprisingly thorough clean up of the room.

Finishing off the butt, Paul put it out carefully in the sink basin and nodded towards Ron.

Smiling sadly Ron called out loudly "No, Dennis I'm not doing this again. It's just wrong."

Paul moved towards the sofa and collapsed wearily. In a overly loud voice he said "I'm out too Dude. No one was supposed to get hurt."

Ron climbed the steps to the basement door with a heavy tread, nodding at Paul he waited poised at the top.

Paul put his head in his hands and called out loudly "I'm calling the cops, Man and I'm going to confess. No wait, you can't just leave Dennis."

At these words Ron ran down the steps banging as loud as he could, jumping over Dennis' body and joining Paul near the couch. Drawing a deep breath Ron called out "Mom, Dennis fell call an ambulance."

Ron moved wearily toward Dennis, dropping down on one knee he glanced up at Paul who had joined him. Both waited a moment, glancing towards the door at the top of the stairs. As expected the door flung open and Alice stood silhouetted in the doorway. Quickly descending the steps, Alice cried out at the sight of Dennis' body. "I called the ambulance Ron; it's on its way. What happened?"

Ron put a hand on Dennis' shoulder and waved towards the shelves that held the shoe box of money they'd robbed, "I helped do something bad, Mom."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and moved away from the light of the basement. Neither spoke a word as they walked towards the Impala. Dean climbed in and waited for Sam to give him the keys. Starting the car, Dean put his beloved car in gear and as always drew comfort from its familiar growl.

As Dean pulled away from the curb, Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Pressing his weary body against the comforting familiarity of the leather seats, Sam pushed away the evening's horrors. Instead he breathed deeply of all that was his home and his family, the leather of the seats, the not unpleasant scent of coffee and his brother's familiar aftershave.

Dean parked the Impala and sat watching the sun as it broke across the horizon. A glance at Sam showed his little brother was still asleep, Dean smiled at the sight of Sam scrunched into the corner of the passenger seat. Reaching out he gently shook his brother, "come on sleeping beauty we're here."

Sam awoke slowly and wiped a hand across his eyes, "I'm up."

Following his brother up the stairs, Sam noticed that he was still favoring his shoulder. As Dean used the key to open the hotel door, Sam said "Why don't you let me take a look at your shoulder."

Dean shook his head, "Nope, you can shower first. I'm gonna grab a couple minutes sleep, we'll deal with it when you come out."

Sam studied Dean's face for a moment, noting Dean's exhaustion he nodded. "You got it Dude; I'll even save you a bit of hot water."

Sam watched as Dean smiled tiredly and lay down on his bed, within moments, he breathing eased and he relaxed into sleep. Sam grabbed his own comforter and covered his brother gently. Grabbing some clean clothes out Sam headed for the bathroom, intent on working out his aches and pains with a little hot water.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam opened the bathroom door in a cloud of steam. Working the kinks out of his neck, he rubbed a towel carefully through his hair deftly avoiding the cut on the back of his head.

"You okay," Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and dropped on his bed. "Yeah, I'm good. I thought you were sleeping, man, I didn't mean to wake you."

Dean's eyes opened slowly and he sat up biting back the groan that was trying to escape. "You didn't. Did you manage to leave me any hot water?"

"Nope, so you might as well skip a shower for tonight. Give that shoulder a rest. Why don't you let me a look at you?" Sam said moving over to Dean's bed.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, his shoulder barely brushing Sam's "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," Dean said, gingerly lifting his right hand to the back of Sam's head.

Sam slapped Dean's hand down, "I bet you make that offer a lot. My head really is okay, can you say the same about your shoulder."

Dean sat for a moment studying Sam intently; finally he nodded and began unbuttoning his flannel. Taking off the shirt caused a hiss of breath to escape him.

Sam watched as Dean's shirt fell from his shoulders, he felt more than heard Dean's barely contained groan. "God, he really worked you over." Dean's left shoulder was a mass of purple bruises; the color extended down his left shoulder and reached almost his abs. Leaning around Dean, Sam could see that it worked its way down his back. Sam flinched and went to fetch the first aid kit.

Dean watched as Sam pulled out a length of athletic bandage, trying to cover the fact that he felt like shit he began babbling, "The Frauleine popped my shoulder back in but I couldn't let her wrap it, I figured I'd need it."

Sam shook his head, his frustration at his brother's lack of concern for himself a normal occurrence. "You gotta take better care of yourself, you're not invincible you know."

Feeling the start of one of Sam's lectures coming Dean quickly headed him off. "Sam, the other night while I was out, what were you doing wandering around outside?" If Dean hadn't been so close to Sam he probably wouldn't have noticed the guilty look that flashed on his baby brother's face. Grinning, Dean said, "Wasn't a girl was it, you dog?"

At Dean's grin Sam pulled the bandage that he was wrapping around the older hunter's shoulder, and arm, a little tighter than normal. At Dean's gasp, Sam immediately let up. "Sorry. Listen it was nothing okay, really I was just out getting some air."

In the face of Sam's obvious embarrassment Dean began racking his brain for reasons; his little brother would have been wandering outside. Sam had known that Dean was on his way to the room, and had come up behind him. Dean grinned as the reason suddenly occurred to him.

"'Gotcha', you were trying to get me. Ah, little brother didn't you learn long ago that I cannot be gotten."

Sam finished binding Dean's left arm against his body. Helping Dean lie down, Sam couldn't help but say, "I must really suck huh; I mean Dad could get within at least ten feet. No wonder he was so proud of you."

Dean gripped Sam's wrist forcing him to sit on the bed next to him. "God, Sam the old man was proud of you. He used to brag about you to anyone that would listen. As far as your skills as a hunter go, you're the only one I've ever trusted to watch my back."

Sam shook his head and said, "Yeah, but you get me every time. You always have. Listen, it's no big deal really," Sam said trying to stand; Dean's iron grip prevented Sam from moving away.

"Listen, Francis, you asked a question you're going to sit here and listen to the answer." Dean released Sam's wrist when he saw him nod.

"When you were about eight months old you started crawling, God, Sam, you were in constant motion. Dad was a wreck and I, well it was all I could do to keep up with you. Once you started walking you began hiding. You were good at it, scary good. You would find some hidey hole in whatever cheap, godforsaken motel we were in and you would wait, quiet as a mouse. I spent the year I turned six looking for you, Dad tried scolding you a couple of times, but you'd say you were sorry, two minutes later you'd be gone." Dean grimaced slightly as he tried to find a more comfortable position. He nodded his thanks to Sam, when his brother tucked another pillow behind his shoulders.

"Anyway a couple weeks before you turned three, you took off once again. We'd been shopping for food, and Dad had been holding your hand. I was pushing the cart, he let go for a minute and you were gone. We searched the store from top to bottom, finally in desperation Dad left the store. He was afraid either you'd wandered out or you'd been taken. While he was outside searching, I kept looking inside. It was a stroke of luck that I even found you. You had curled up inside a huge ceramic flower pot and you'd fallen asleep. I can remember grabbing you up and carrying you out to Dad. He just grabbed you and hugged you. When we got back to the hotel, he took you aside and explained to you that what you had done was bad. I could probably recite to you word for word what he said, and then he turned you over and spanked you. It was the first and last time he'd ever raised his hand to either of us and it killed him. He kept trying to explain to me, why he'd done it but I knew. He was scared of losing you." Dean paused for a moment, trying to gauge Sam's silence.

Sam grinned and said, "Its okay, Dean, I mean I get what Dad was doing. So that was it, that's when I stopped hiding."

Dean suddenly smiled. "God, no, the next morning I lost you again. If anything you became more determined." Dean shook his head at the memory. "Anyway, I couldn't stand to see you get punished. I just couldn't do it and I knew there was no other way to make you stop, so I found a solution."

Sam smiled at Dean in confusion. "What solution?"

Dean shrugged his good shoulder and said, "I learned to find you, I just kept at it. By the time you celebrated your fourth birthday, I could find you blindfolded. You just kept trying to hide and I just kept finding you. Finally, one day you stopped hiding, I asked you why and you said,"

"I said hiding's no fun if you're the one seeking," Sam said.

Dean nodded and said, "After that I could just always tell where you were, you know. But then the night I broke my leg, I panicked."

Sam broke eye contact with Dean, staring at his hands he said in a low voice, "It was my fault, I'm the reason you got hurt."

Dean swallowed and looked at Sam, reassuring himself that Sam had survived that hunt and many others after it. "No, Sam, it wasn't your fault, god do you remember you shot up like four inches that summer. You couldn't manage to walk down a sidewalk without tripping over those clown feet. But you did give yourself away to that werewolf and I couldn't let it get you."

"That's when you started the game," Sam said.

Dean shook his head seriously. "It wasn't a game Sam, I may have acted like it was but it wasn't. You're a great hunter, and I have no doubt that you are every bit as good as me at stalking prey, hell I've seen you do it."

Sam drew in a deep breath and stood grinning slightly. "Well, at least I'm still faster than you." He threw over his shoulder as he moved to climb into his own bed. Sam stretched out, and was just drifting off when he heard Dean say.

"If that's what you need to believe to get you through the day, Francis."

888

Dean came out of the bathroom surrounded by a cloud of steam. "God, that is a nice shower," he said to Sam.

Sam looked up from his coffee and paper and grinned at Dean, his brother was towel drying his short hair, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. "We could stay another night, I was reading the paper. Ron and Paul confessed to the robberies, there going to be charged in the thefts and the three murders. They cite Dennis as being the ringleader; it says here his death was accidental."

Dean shook his head. "I'm ready to put this town in the rear view. Let's get moving, I'm sure there's something that needs killing somewhere."

Sam grinned at Dean and said, "Think I've found it, apparently there's been a series of deaths at a nursing home in Nebraska."

"Ohhh, old people dying in an old folks home, scary," Dean said with a theatrical shudder. "Let's go."

The end


End file.
